Harry Potter and the Dreemurr in Need
by MaxieProdmoore
Summary: My take on TheZorker's Harry Potter and the Underground's Saviour. I'll definitely do my best to have it evolve to be truly my take on a Post Pacifist Run meets the Harry Potter 'verse as of Prisoner of Azkaban. Will contain scenes that lean towards the film's interpretation of events. Lastly, Frisk in this tale is male, Eurasian and has Dyspraxia.
1. Chapter 1: The Train Ride Alone

Author's notes: Frisk for this fic is Male, and do note that some scenes will be more like the film version. With that said, please enjoy the fic!

There was a child standing alone inside King's Cross Station. On it's own, there wasn't anything odd about it. Afterall, it was 1 September, back to school time and all, thus children and adults alike were navigating to their respective train platforms. This child, however, held a ticket with a platform clearly marked nine and three quarters. Nine and three quarters. A number that, on a train ticket, raised an eyebrow and confusion. Indeed, when he looked, first to the left, then to the right, the platforms were marked nine and ten respectively. To further compile on that, none of his fellow passengers-to-be seem to have the time, or concern to help a lonely child. It was an uncomfortable, familiar feeling over again though this time, not one of his own making.

Frisk sighed, wishing, not for the first time, that he wasn't going to Hogwarts, or indeed, Boarding School so soon. It wasn't because he had not been looking forward to learning magic, He did. It might not be the same magic he was used to now, but magic is still magic, whatever form it may take, dark sides and all. It was just that, after crossing half the world (from the Lion City to the United Kingdom), enduring the troubles of adjusting to new time zones and other related details, in hopes of a better childhood and after a special journey, he finally broke free from the shell crafted by his upbringing and had found friends in his life. Genuine friends who cared for him instead of whispering about him being odd. (Coordination developmental issues that made him clumsier than the average joe notwithstanding, or his status as a foreigner,) plus the bonus of finding a foster family away from home he could really consider himself part of. It wasn't a normal family, sure, with parents who are divorced, but that was healing, slowly. All that, combined with the strange new world of true independence, especially in terms of education, made for a reluctant Frisk. Plus, he only had six weeks adjusting to this new fact of life.

Just to make it worse, they couldn't be there. Maybe that made the departure easier to do. Papyrus had driven, in his new, red convertible; He had repeatedly apologised for having the car top up. But, since it is London and it is raining at that moment, nobody minded too much. Mum sat with him at the back and Sans was at the front seat with his brother. The walk into the station had to be done alone, all the goodbyes to be had done in the car. To the child going to boarding school for the first time, especially one who gained a proper, loving foster family recently, that wasn't fair. Not to him, not to them.

They should have been able to be there. That was how it should be, before they've even heard of the Ministry of Magic and how they weren't to traumatised "Muggles". (He hated that term. How could they keep magic, something that has the potential to help millions of people, away from folks who might need it? Especially when said options are ultimately a means to an end, tools being tools?)

Dad didn't like it. In his opinion, the difference between locked away and hiding wasn't that great. But he wasn't going to antagonize the humans on the surface. Not on the first week of being on the surface again and without the proper context anyway. They had wizard escorts for their many trips around London, which was how Papyrus got his driver's license and his car.

But, that was partially why he was even there. He wasn't an ambassador. He was too young and much too shy around crowds for that. Papyrus made for a better ambassador than he could be at the moment. However, he did have an invitation to attend Hogwarts, to join the "British wizarding world" and that, would perhaps help the monsters of the Mount Ebott Underground join the rest of human society in the long run. Frisk could not help giving a wry smile. He didn't want to be an ambassador, yet ambassadorship was fostered on him, to be proof that being around monsters wasn't going to alter them much, physically or mentally beyond acceptable human standards.

Though, that invitation would mean nothing if he could not get on the right platform. Frisk was brought out of this chain of thought by a bump from behind and a "sorry!". When he turned around, he noted that it was a ginger haired girl with black eyes who made the apology. With a quick raise of the hand and a smile in acceptance of the apology, Frisk was about to turn around and resume his search for the elusive nine and three quarters platform when his eyes took in the similarly packed trolley luggage. With a decision to bet on successfully finding that platform, Frisk raised the hand holding the Hogwarts bound ticket, eyes showing his confusion.

"Platform nine and three quarters? Sure, this way!" said the girl, eyes twinkling. She led Frisk purposefully through the crowd and towards a wall serving as a divide between platforms nine and ten. After a check to make sure Frisk was still with her and a check to make sure the crowds were minding their own businesses, the girl moved at a brisk pace towards the wall and… disappeared into it.

Had it not been Frisk's first venture into a facet of the magical world, he would have thought he had gone mad. After a quick run through that everything was alright, making sure that he hadn't blinked at that crucial moment and that he was still breathing and every other "reality check" possible, Frisk did the roadside drill, and moved briskly into the wall.

He was rewarded with a brief sense of being out of sync with reality, like when he accompanied Sans on one of his "shortcuts", and emerged onto a traditional steam train platform marked nine and three quarters with nothing more a stumble from the experience. It was only through trainings from Undyne that prevented Frisk from falling over like a dumbass. Though it hardly mattered, since the only one who witnessed this was the girl who had shown her the entrance.

"Ginny!" a voice called out from further down the platform. "Where have you gotten to?" The girl gave a smile, then ran off to join the people who must be her family. Frisk tried to follow her, the girl being the one friendly face, the one person who actually talked to him since leaving his British family and friends, but the girl was swallowed by the sea of people.

Since he had no one to join, and no one to say goodbye to, Frisk was one of the first to board the Hogwarts Express. Having selected a seat and stored his luggage, Frisk sat down and leaned against the window, staring through the window, at the children saying hello to friends and goodbye to family. It only made him feel alone, much like the time he left his home country two years ago.

It was only inevitable that the students aboard the Hogwarts Express be discussing not one, but two prison breaks and doing so loudly. There had been an older boy with pale skin, blond hair and a sneering face, who emerged from his train cabin, saying loudly that his father had assured him that the recent escapees of the Mt Ebott barrier would soon be rounded up and returned to their prison shortly. "They were put down there for a reason, after all!"

He paused on the way to the dining car in order to sneer at the student sitting in front of him. He had put on his robes early, perhaps as an attempt to blend in with the rest. But, with his robes' lack of any house emblem, (though it did have a curious marking of three triangles, a circle and a pair of wings), there was no mistaking him as a first year. Plus, the wand gripped in his hands was no well polished Ollivander creation. It looked more like a simple branch than any symbol of true power. With a last smirk at the boy's cringe, he left to collect more sweets.

The Express chugged on, with Frisk staring outside, showing next to no emotion. On any other circumstance, he would be interested in viewing the surroundings, it being the first time he had gotten near the Scotland countryside after all. Around him, conversations raged. When they weren't discussing the destruction of the barrier which symbolised the release of the Mt Ebott monsters, they were discussing the escape of Sirius Black, apparently a mass murderer, or Quidditch, a sport that Frisk had no knowledge about. As such, there was no hope of joining any of those conversations.

"Would you like something to eat, dear?" asked the woman pushing the lunch trolley. What Frisk really wanted was for a slice of butterscotch and cinnamon pie, or something chilli crab related. But those weren't available. "Those do seem like an interesting mix of flavours.", she told Frisk. "Maybe on the way back." Frisk eventually settled for a roast beef sandwich and pumpkin juice, even though he wasn't sure how one juiced a pumpkin.

"That'll be seven sickles", she told him. Frisk struggled with that. In the underground, it was the sensible 10 silver coins to the one gold coin. The seventeen sickles to the galleon conversion was odd and confusing, but eventually Frisk was convinced he got the right amount. With a soft thank you, he turned back to the English countryside scrolling by.

Frisk became aware of his surroundings again when the train slowed down and the lights turned on. His curiosity awakened due to the conversations of the surrounding students being lowered down to a nervous muttering, telling him that this isn't a regular occurrence. The creature - he wouldn't call it a Monster - that flew in had no face. All it seemed to be, he thought, was a cloaked being with the hood up, that was one skull face away from being the grim reaper, or at least his agents, what with the smell of death that it held around it.

It flew closer, it's hood sweeping back and forth searching for something it couldn't see... or at least sense. When it didn't find what it was looking for, the cloaked creature seemed to focus on Him. He could almost feel his soul, pastel red and determined, that it is according to the Ebott Monsters, gird itself for battle. But if there is a silver soul, or a soul of any colour in the creature, he couldn't sense it. Any trace of a soul was lost in the deep black of its cloak.

As it approached, Frisk could feel a wave of memory flood over him. That of a boy left behind nearly two months ago. He could still feel the boy's shirt on his hands, the pain in his eyes, the cracking in his voice. It was the memory he saw most prominently in his latest set of nightmares. The tears flowed readily down his eyes, just as the boy cried in his memories. Frisk just couldn't resist closing his eyes at that point, even with the potential threat that the creature in front of him might be, to lose himself to that pain. The pain of leaving that someone behind, condemned to a life without love or hope or anything positive to live for.

In response, the branch, or rather, the wand it turned out to be from the outsider's perspective, glowed with the light of a wild fire. The cloaked creature paused in response to this, confused by this reaction by a child who, under normal circumstances, should have been incapacitated. A few seconds later, that light gathered into a ball of fire that struck the creature in the cloak, with a small explosion upon that impact. The creature, in shock and pain of it's own was launched out of the train car and impacted, hypothetical bum first and soon beat a hasty retreat. Nobody saw this. They were all lost in the sorrow left in the wake of the cloaked figure's appearance.

Malfoy was only partially right. That wand wasn't a professionally looking, highly polished wand found "off the rack" from Mr Ollivander's. Instead, for the first time in a generation, Mr Ollivander had created a custom wand. The knobby stick, a relic from Frisk's previous adventure, had been upgraded courtesy of being infused with a core he had never used before. Even though he didn't know it, when used for a sympathetic purpose, that wand might as well be one of the most powerful ones he had ever created.

Afterall, it wasn't every other student that had a wand powered by their magic guardian's fur.

When the train arrived at the Hogwarts connected station, Frisk took his luggage and lugged out of the train. He was about to head towards the carriages pulled by the creatures that didn't look completely like horses when he heard the call:

"First years! First years follow me! Your luggage will be taken care of."

The voice came from a man. A bearded, beady eyed, giant of a man who was somehow _Taller_ than dad. And he was leading the first years onto boats that slightly remind him of the Riverman's boat, if only because of the lamp at the front. As the boats floated on, the sky cleared, revealing a sky full of stars. With Hogwarts coming into view, Frisk was reminded of the time in the crystal cavern, starring with Monster Kid (under a shared umbrella) at what they both agreed was the best view in the Underground. And, Hogwarts was even bigger than Dad's Castle.

There was a splash behind him. Someone had fallen into the lake. The giant of a man didn't seem alarmed though. Not long after, he could see why: The child was placed back into the boat by a giant tentacle. "Was this where Onion-san went to?" Frisk wondered. He hoped not. That was, to him, the most surreal conversation he had thus far. Frisk wrapped the robes he had closer together. Even with his acquired tolerance to the European cold, the Scotland weather along with the coolness from the lake made for a chilly combination.

When the boat ride ended, they disembarked and headed to the large main doors of the castle. There, the giant man was met by a positively pint-sized gentleman scantily taller than Frisk himself. "Hargrid." The shorter man greeted. "Professor Flitwick," he returned in surprise, "Where's Minerva?"

"Seeing to some ill students", the smaller man replied. "There has been an incident already. I'll be handling the sorting. They're waiting for us."

With that, Flitwick opened the large door. Said door led into a great hallway, with four long tables, two on each side and filled with what totalled a few hundred students. On the far side of that hall was a dais where the professors sat. In front of that dais was a stool with what looked to be a positively ancient stereotypical witch's hat with stitches that, together, formed a face on the hat. There were even ghosts inside. Far more human ghosts than Blooky or what he'd imagined Mettaton's original form to be. Torches also hung, untethered to anything he could see, and the ceiling also mirrored the sky outside though that, after what he had experienced before, was less out of the oridinary compared with the other details in that room. Together, the elements in that hall and the cacophony of sounds was overwhelming for Frisk. He wanted to back out of it. All those students staring at him and his fellow, similarly scared school friends/mates-to-be. It was the second most scariest room in the Hogwarts area to him. The scariest had been a shorter room before the hall with exactly one skeleton in it.

Frisk regained his composure just in time to hear and see the hat sing a song about the four houses of Hogwarts. A song he didn't hear much to remember about."Now, when Professor Flitwick calls out your name, please come up and we'll sort you to your proper house," Professor Hagrid told them as Flitwick took his place on a large stool. "Applegate, Kristina…"

One by one, the students' names were called. They walked slowly to the front of the hall, had the ancient hat placed on their head, which would eventually call out the house that student was sorted to. Then the student would walk off to the table were the members of said house sat.

All too soon, Professor Flitwick called out "Dreemurr, Frisk".

It was the moment he had been dreading. Already, he could hear people whispering, wondering what kind of surname "Dreemurr" was. Though, out of the storm of discussions, Frisk could swear he saw a young lady who looked as though she recognised it. Frisk walked slowly towards the area in-front of the dais and looked up at the professor. Flitwick's expression was kindly in the way only teachers could be. He knew the incoming students were nervous, as Frisk is at that moment. It had been far easier confronting his would-be father the first time, than to face up this public spectacle.

He looked in the direction of the dais. Most of the professors did not showed any interest in the sorting, busy talking away amongst themselves. In the center of that gathering was the Headmaster, giving him a decidedly interested expression. He noticed his gaze and returned it, smiling benignly.

Professor Flitwick gave a small cough, returning him back to the moment. The professor indicated the empty stool with his free hand, and Frisk sat on it. Then he lowered the sorting hat onto the student's head.

"Hmph," said a voice in his head. Frisk sat still, curious as to what the hat would say. "The first instinct is to say Gryffindor, as you've done many brave things in your past. But, you don't think yourself as brave." Frisk flashed back to foster mom and dad, none of whom knew the truth about a certain golden flower…

"You like puzzles. You even enjoy them." Papyrus' smiling face flashed to the front of his mind at this… "But you don't crave knowledge for knowledge's sake so Ravenclaw would not suit you.

There's this part of you that desires power. But why? Ah.. to help others," the sorting hat said after a pause. "A specific other, to be sure. But others."

After the train ride, Frisk had wanted to push the image of that boy away from anywhere near the from of his mind, but that image still came up front. "But you don't desire it. So Slytherin? It's not the house for you."

"In fact, you mostly value compassion. You believe, that the worst person in the world, could _change_. That anyone could be a good person if they would just try. Admirable. But, you'll find that train of thought tested here. I think Helga and Godric would both find you a valuable addition to their houses. It would require an extraordinary amount of bravery, and humility, to offer compassion to… More than an opponent. An _enemy_. Would you fight though, if you needed to?"

There was silence after that. More images came to mind. The battles against Asgore and that… thing. Memories of events that technically did not happen. Though, if the hat caught that chain of thought, it didn't say anything.

"You would, won't you?"

The child was made aware that this was probably the longest sorting of any student so far.

"I've decided, and I believe you have, too, that the best option for you, is to be in house…"

Author's note: Consider this to be my take thus far on a post-Pacifist run crossover with the Harry Potter universe, set at the time of Prisoner of Azkaban. Currently, to set this one apart from the one TheZorker did, I'm typing this one from the perspective of a Frisk with Dyspraxia, along with certain quirks from my own experiences. If anyone wishes to contribute their perspectives living as/with a person with a special need/disability, please feel free to PM me alongside anything else you may wish to say.

Also, I would like to say that I'll be quite busy from here on out as I'll be helping to prepare some media related stuff for my country's National Day. I'll do my best to update whenever I can, but the update dates would be quite erratic for the time being. Thank you for your understanding and have a great (rest of the) day. Peace out.


	2. Chapter 2: Greeting New friends

Chapter 2: Greeting New friends

"Or should I… You would do so well in either house." The sorting hat said, continuing in shaking those chains of thought without actually involving Frisk in the discussion.

At this point, Frisk heard someone descend from the seats behind him and approached his general position.

"Filius, when was the last time we had a hatstall?" asked the man.

"The Pettigrew boy, Albus", replied professor Flitwick. "Unless you count ms Granger."

"I _heard_ that" muttered the hat. "Very well. A tiebreaker. What do you think about plants & flowers?"

Frisk's mind zeroed in on _that one flower_ and he gave an involuntary shudder.

"Gryffindor!" declared the sorting hat to all present in the Great Hall.

With great applause and a few sighs of relief, the sorting hat was swept off Frisk's head. "Go and join your new house", professor Flitwick told him, smiling.

Frisk looked at the group of smiling faces in front of him, and made his way to the far end of the hall, to the end of the red themed table. As he was the second first year to be sorted into Gryffindor, he ended up sitting next to the last of the second year students.

"Oh!" said the girl sitting next to him. To Frisk's surprise and delight, it was the redheaded girl who showed him the way to platform nine & three quarters.

"You're the one they call Frisk Dreemurr? Congratulations!"

Frisk couldn't think of a better way to reply to that, so he settled for an "er… thanks?" whisper instead.

"I'm Ginny weasley…" she began.

"Ginny," a boy opposite whispered in awe, "Is it true that a dementor attacked Harry Potter?"

"Ask him yourself when he gets down here, Colin!" Ginny snapped. This was enough to startle Colin into silence. After a pause to hear that a "Formby, Kay was sorted into Hufflepuff, Ginny continued; "I'm glad you made it here, and to Gryffindor!"

"Thanks... yes, my name is Frisk. Frisk Goh Dreemurr," he replied. Together, the two of them turned to watch the rest of the sorting.

Once the sorting was over, there was a warning about the dementors. That was the name of the... creatures that visited not just the train car he was in, but every single one of them, Placed in the school for their… protection. Frisk shuddered. He would stay away from them. Far far away from them. He had No desire to relive that memory again.

Then came the introduction of two new professors by the headmaster, (He'd met Hagrid already.), and the feast began. Frisk had to admit, he had never seen such a wide range of food placed together in one table before. The smells of all the main course foods in their respective dishes blended together in a cornucopia of fresh made and inciting the promise of taste. He took a small sample of the foods that caught his interest, liking some, not caring to take second helpings for others, but overall pleasantly filled up. Soon, the desserts came, replacing the dinner plates quickly and quietly with the tables groaning once again under the weight of every dessert imaginable.

Once more, Frisk made a quick search for any sign of a cinnamon & butterscotch pie, or ice kachang, chendol or some durian related desert, but there was neither. "I've never had butterscotch, or any of the food that you've described," Ginny admitted. " Are those muggle food?"

Frisk tensed up at the term. "Well, they are. Sure, my foster mother had not made any of the last three deserts before, but where cinnamon and butterscotch is concerned, she can make the best pie in the world with them." he told his new friend.

"The best food in the world are the ones made by one's own mother", Ginny said sagely and it was impossible to argue with that.

Eventually, the food was all done. In groups, they got up and left. Frisk was about to get up and follow a boy with an important looking badge calling for the first year Gryffindors when Ginny tapped his shoulder.

"Nah, you don't need to follow Percy." She raised her voice. "Percy! What's the password?"

Percy glanced around and locked eyes with Ginny. "Major Fortuna!" he called back.

"Thanks!" Ginny replied. A blond girl in the ravenclaw colours had appeared next to them. She had blue, unfocused eyes, an effect Frisk wasn't used to. "Oh, hello Luna," Ginny said.

"Is this Frisk Dreemurr?" Luna asked.

Frisk felt his soul grow determined. This was the girl that he thought recognised his other surname. There could only be one reason for that. "Yes, it is," replied Ginny, somewhat in surprise.

"Is it a coincidence," Luna asked curiously, "that the king and queen of the Mount Ebott monsters also have that surname?"

Frisk knew that moment would eventually arrive. "No," he told them. "Toriel Dreemurr is my new foster mother here in the United Kingdom, hence the two surnames. She is the first monster i met when i fell into the underground."

Ginny's jaw fell wide open.

"Do you think my dad can get an interview with her?" Luna asked

Out of all the reactions to his statement, he had expected Ginny's. Luna's request, however, threw him off guard. "Hmm, I don't know… " Frisk said after a moment's thought. "Mom would rather not be making waves…. But I'll be happy to ask!" Frisk added hastily after seeing Luna's crestfallen expression.

"May i know whom your dad works for?" Frisk asked.

"He runs the Quibbler!"

"What's the Quibbler?" Frisk asked.

"It's hard to explain," Ginny said hurriedly. "It's better if i give you a copy to look through".

Luna suddenly zeroed in on Ginny. The sudden change in focus was quite frankly intimidating.

"It's not all celebrity gossip and rumors," she snapped. "Daddy also writes about things the Prophet would never print!"

"I know, Luna," Ginny said. "It's just that it's late and we need to return back to the Common room before curfew."

"Oh, i suppose it is late." Luna said, switching back to her dreamy state like the perceived attack on her father's magazine didn't happen. "Alright, Ginny. See you in class?"

"I hope so!" Ginny told her. "I haven't seen the schedules yet." With a brief hug, the two classmates went their separate ways, with Frisk trailing behind Ginny. "Luna's a bit… well, loony. But she's got a good heart and is extremely perspective."

"I could see that." Frisk said softly. Ginny gave him a bright smile.

"We better get up to the tower though. This way." With that, Ginny led Frisk through a maze of staircases, passing through portraits along the way. Those portraits, unlike the ones Frisk had seen before his Ebott journey's end, talked. Welcoming the new and the returning students back to their learning journeys in Hogwarts. Ginny only briefly acknowledged them. "When you get lost," Ginny told Frisk, "feel free to ask a portrait for help. Most of them will make time to help a student. And speaking of portraits…" They had arrived at a large painting of a plump lady in a pink dress. When prompted for a password, Ginny turned to Frisk. "Do you remember what it is?"

"Major Fortuna, wasn't it?" Frisk supplied.

"It is." Ginny replied. "Remembering passwords is the most important thing you need to do. Even above homework. Just don't let Hermione hear that," Ginny added, winking.

The portrait swung open, revealing yet another staircase. "Thank you." Frisk told the portrait.

"You're welcome," came the voice of the fat lady from the other side as she swung close behind the two of them. They climbed the stairs into a large sitting room. A nice fire was already burning at the hearth. Several chairs, couches and tables were scattered about to complete the set. Due to the hour, only a few groups of students were sitting on the chairs. The rest, Frisk surmised, were probably asleep, at least sitting around their beds, or somewhere between that and the two staircases into the respective dormitories.

Ginny sat on one of the comfortable looking chairs and stared intensely at Frisk. "Can you tell me more about it?" She asked excitedly.

Frisk, tired as he was, sat down on the chair directly opposite her. "About what?"

"Everything! What happened in the underground, the monsters you met there, what they're like and so on!"

"But, i thought you said it was late," Frisk stammered.

"We're not allowed to be in the castle halls after seven, but we're allowed to stay up as late as we want in the common room," Ginny explained. "Not that it's a good idea to remain up late for so long, since we do have classes tomorrow."

Frisk debated with himself. With his special situation, he has a feeling he'll be repeating his story so many times that he'll be sick of it. Yet it felt wrong to not give his new friend a snippet of that story, especially given how helpful she was on both sides of the train ride.

With that decision, Frisk took out a small leather photo book from his robes pocket and gave it to Ginny, who opened it eagerly.

"Miss Toriel Dreemurr, my newly adopted foster mother, is the single nicest monster i've ever met in the underground," he said as an introduction. "She wishes to be a teacher."

"These pictures aren't moving."

"We took these with cameras that fell into the underground," Frisk explained.

"Ah, this must be her husband," Ginny said, nodding her head.

Frisk's expression fell a little. "Was her husband," Frisk said sadly. "I hope he will be again. They're starting to make up… the events that led to the breakup? It's a long story," he clarified.

"Oh… are those _skeletons_?"

"Papyrus and his brother, Sans. They may look different, but they are. Papyrus is a gentle soul. Sans, he's a practical joker and puns master. Papyrus may hate that part of him, but they love each other all the same. _Brother_... " Frisk paused in that chain of thought, now thinking of his own elder brother. Though they frequently see each other through Skype, he realized that he missed the brother's physical presence. Never mind that it's only been two years since the separation.

But at least he'll see them in the flesh when they come to visit for Christmas…

"Frisk? Are you feeling alright?" Ginny asked worriedly. "You were zoned out for a moment there."

"Eh? Oh sorry, Ginny. I'm fine. I'll explain the details about that episode later. For now, where were we?"

"If you say so… You were telling me about Sans and Papyrus by the way," Ginny said, not entirely convinced, but smiled anyway, glad to have his attention back.

"Glad that you're back to earth," said a voice from a corner of the room. "But should you need cheering up…"

"You can come look for us." said another voice from that same corner. Another pair of redheads (just how many of them are there in Gryffindor?) emerged from a pair of armchairs and went to stand behind Ginny's chair. With the three of them close together, it was easy to tell they are related.

"Anyway, we've met Sans! He is wicked cool. You should have seen what he pulled on the manager of _Flourish & Blotts_!"

"What did he do?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"Oh, he didn't hurt him, but it was hilarious," one twin said.

"But you should introduce us, Ginny!" added the other.

"These are two of my brothers, Fred and George. But where's Ron?"

"Oh, you know Ron," Fred...or was it George? said. "Ate too much and then fell asleep," the other finished.

Ginny giggled. "Fred, George, this is Frisk Goh Dreemrr. He came up from under Mt Ebott with the monsters there."

Frisk gave a nod of acknowledgement. He knew how hard it was to keep secrets, but this was setting records straight for him.

Ginny went on flipping through the photo album.

"Is that a merperson? And a ...drake?"

"Drake?"

"You know, a dragon? That lives in extreme temperatures? Or at least what Charlie tells me…"

"Now that you say it… you're right." admitted Frisk. "Anyway, the merperson is Undyne and the drake is Alphys but, Undyne is not a merperson in the traditional sense. She can breathe above the water easily enough. Alphys is… sorry, **was** the Underground's royal scientist. Undyne is a bit hot blooded, but loves anime and cartoons. So does Alphys, but she's much shyer otherwise.

"Tell us about the Underground!" Fred and George said together.

"Not tonight," Frisk said quietly but firmly. "I won't bother trying to keep it a secret, but I can tell the whole house about it tomorrow."

"A treat after the first day of classes?" George suggested. "That sounds wicked." Fred replied.

Having finished looking through the photo album, Ginny closed and handed it back to Frisk. On his part, Frisk flipped back to the photograph of Toriel for a few seconds, then returned the book back to his pocket. "I think it's time for bed!" Ginny announced after looking at Frisk's tired face.

Frisk had wanted to make a start in writing a letter home, but, as Ginny spoke, he realised that he was indeed feeling sleepy. "I think that's a good idea, Ginny." He told her. "We'll look out for him, Ginny," George told her. "As we always do." Fred added, nodding.

Saying goodnight to Ginny, Frisk joined Fred and George up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. With a goodnight and a point to their year's beds & timings when they should be available to talk, Frisk entered his year's bedroom, where, as he suspected, the majority of the first years were already asleep.

Setting aside the Gryffindor coloured school accessories, Frisk finished up his nightly rituals and changed into a set of purple pyjamas (now embodied with the delta rune), and climbed into bed.

Sure, there was some snoring to be heard amongst the first year boys, but after what he'd endured with foster dad, it was nothing he couldn't handle.

After a few minutes spent staring at the ceiling, contemplating the events of the day, he rolled over, clutching his boster and surrendered to the heavy clutches of sleep.

A/N: thank you so much for waiting this long for the next chapter to be posted and thanks for the reviews/favs you all have given me. It's been a tough journey since the last posting, with the event's multimedia asserts needed to be inspected and corrected, plus other admin stuff to be dealt with and all. After all that has taken place thus far, it's nice to have some support through seeing that you all are interested in the story I want to tell through Frisk, or in another retelling of Prisoner of Azkaban.

For you all in the former category especially, I will press on. That is a promise. Have a great rest of the day. Cya!


	3. Chapter 3: Stepping into a new World

Chapter 3: Stepping into a brand new World

One Week before Start of Term:

"And that's the last of them," declared Riau Cantuson as he closed the door to the tavern. He had been their main guide, no, chaperon would be more accurate. He had provided them with something called disillusion charms for travelling through London. But, the monsters available to accompany Frisk during each venture across London still had to wear full covering body robes and keep their hoods up, so apparently those charms weren't perfect. Still, they were the best quality available and they've had some extra support around just in case for the first few weeks on the surface. It was just as well. Those first few weeks on the surface were just about the most tedious parts of the resettling process. From the matter of securing the new house for the Dreemurr family, to being around to overseeing Frisk completing the British equivalent to Primary School year 4, or the much more emotional part of bringing Frisk to the Singapore Embassy in London so that he can update his British address to the new Dreemurr house, Mr Riau and his team were there to ensure they did not raise up unnecessary attention.

Now the group of four members, plus Mr Riau were at the pub ( the Leaky Cauldron, they called it) that connected non-magic London to Diagon Alley so that Frisk could get the things necessary for his Hogwarts journey, along with the spending power of that "world," thereby crystallising his place in the wizarding UK world. When he reflected on this event in his life later on, Frisk found that he had an appropriate quote: thanks to his journey to UK and through the Mt Ebott Underground, he found that another world awaits! And he's going."

With the group now away from the public eye, Riau began dispelling the charms on the other three. Having done that, mr Riau pushed five bricks in sequence, which resulted in a wall sliding back and to the side, showing the shopping area that is the Diagon Alley itself proper. Riau then went to a booth and sat down, pull out a newspaper and flipped to the opinions section. When he had found the exact commentary he was searching for, he looked up and told them that he would be waiting for them there. Or to look for Tom, the current bartender on duty. Tom looked up from his current task at the mention of his name, and stepped back at the sight of the goat looking woman and the two skeletons.

"Good heavens!" he began. The few patrons of the bar, including another boy, looking not much older than Frisk himself looked up at Tom's exclamation.

"It's alright, Tom." explained Riau. They're from the underground.

"Ah… ok," Tom said, still not taking his eyes off Papyrus' excited grin. "Take care then."

"ISN'T THIS EXCITING, SANS?" Papyrus asked as he whipped off the cloak covering his "civilian" body, a tuxedo with a white shirt and a red tie plus a pair of sunglasses. With the suddenly buff appearance that he now had, comparisons against the men in black was inevitable. However, with the red boots from his "battle body," some comparisons with the Doctor could also be made. Specifically the David Tennant incarnation of the character, even though it was Frisk who had a replica of ten's Sonic Screwdriver and the more practical and in plain sight replica of miss Foster's Sonic Pen in his possession.

It took nearly an hour to convince him that his battle body wasn't suitable for shopping, not helped much by the occasional reflux into the gibberish speeches Frisk once had. Frisk grabbed the cloak before it could escape and passed it to Toriel, who folded it and placed it into one of her shopping bags for safekeeping.

"yeah, it is, bro," giggled Sans in his customary broad smile and his classic look. "So Torii, where to first?"

"Gringotts. Wizards pay for things in Galleons, plus we need to exchange our own gold for it.

As far as first impressions go, it was overall as ordinary as one would expect from a suburban street, yet oozing in a charm that Frisk just couldn't quite put a finger on. Under any other circumstance prior to his moving into the UK, he would be much more interested in the house shapes in general. Now, Frisk focused on those little details the respective tenants put into their turfs to mark it as their own.

"heh," he heard a voice behind him say. "A joke shop? Wonder what they sell there?"

"SCHOOL SUPPLIES FIRST, SANS!" admonished Papyrus, earning a few looks of surprise and a few stares. Between eying the shops/shophouses, Frisk was observing the reactions of the crowd to their entourage: the look away/ leave kind, the staring, gawking kind, often with that comical jawdrop and wide eyes combo, or, finally and the most nerve wracking of all because of the higher level of it all compared with the ones _he_ received for his eurasian looks (asian skin with dark brunette hair and blue eyes), the mutter angrily, staring through slitted eyes/ gossiping openly and loudly about (asian) refugees and the like.

Frisk tugged at his (new) foster mother's robes, whispering the need to hurry.

"It's alright, my child." Toriel said calmly. "We aren't here to get in any fights."

Frisk was sure about his mother's intention to not get in any fights. But he was too aware it didn't take two people to start one… As Undyne proved to him.

Nevertheless, they did manage to keep true to that promise, with most of the crowd people willing to oblige in doing so, allowing Toriel and company to blend in with them and finally enter through Gringott's massive doors.

Frisk joined Papyrus in admiring the interior of the Gringotts building. King dad's castle underground is beautiful, sure, with the cavern within enlarged in specific corners to allow light from the barrier to come in.

Gringotts' just as large, but far more ornate and opulent, like nothing he's ever seen before. Not in the underground, or out of it for that matter.

Still staring around at the sights, Frisk found himself being pulled along at intervals, as the queue they were in got shorter and shorter until they were finally at the counter with the goblins.

The transaction between monster and goblin was professional and quick, the paperwork dealt with nicely, the conversion of underground gold and galleons done through a traditional scale. The conversion rates explained as simply as they could, with Frisk and Toriel taking notes on that part. It was ultimately the mention of the Underground gold being purer gold that caught his attention in this part of the trip though, so he asked and got an explanation for it, happy for a new entry in his knowledge banks. Of course, the goblin did quirk his eyebrow at the realisation that Frisk was the child Toriel mentioned, but it wasn't something he (Frisk) wasn't used to either.

When they left the bank, the group had a discussion about how they should split up the shopping so they can complete it faster. With the decision made for Papyrus and Sans to tackle getting the books from Flourish & blotts while Frisk and Toriel deal with being outfitted with the robes & school uniform combo, they were off to their respective destinations, though not before Sans delivered a "book it there" pun, along with the classic ARRGH! From Papyrus.

Author's Note: Thus another chapter done. First and foremost, I would like to thank the people who decided to add this story to their favourites or decided to follow it. Really, thank you all for decided that _The Dreemurr in Need_ is a story worth following and/or worthy of being placed into your favourites compartment. I also kind of noticed that a number of you folks didn't leave me a review or a message with regards to that story. I respect that decision. Truly do. Just that, at the risk of sounding emo or something along that line, for me personally, at this point, I feel that I need to hear feedback from you guys, to listen out for the reason why it stuck with you at this point. Why you've decided to stick around for more, despite the pretty blatant disclaimer that it is quite similar to _TheZorker_ 's _**Underground's Saviour**_ story, especially in the beginning to mid parts, and, more importantly, what I can do to improve it, per chapter, grammatical errors and the like. Plus, the need for me to be dragged back into reality, to be stopped if any of the characters seem out-of-character, the story seems incohesive or something else.

Let it be known that I trust in the internet's kind side to be the moderator on what the characters would canonly do in certain situations and that they can lead others back on said path. As the original doctor said:"...Just go forward in all your beliefs, and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine." Thanks for your time and have a great (rest of the) day.


	4. Chapter4: Getting School supplies

Chapter 4: Getting the school supplies, part 1; the Forging of a new Wand

Author's notes: Mini Spoiler alert about "The Day of the Doctor" and certain parts of the revival series, because it's _John Hurt,_ actor of _Ollivander_ and the _War Doctor_ , plus a land in this parallel universe, a joke appearance since the River song quote about good wizards turning out to be the Doctor... With that said, Allons-Y! and Geronimo!, Dear Reader!

With Frisk and Toriel:

Now that Frisk had more time to take a closer look at the specific interiors of the shops around on route to the recommended "Madam Malkin's Robes for all occasions," he found that, as expected, some of the contents of the shops are not of anything he had ever seen before in non-magical society before, the shop with the openly levitating broomstick, Quidditch Quality Supplies, being a prime example. Amanuesis quills was another surprise.

"I'm not sure why they don't just use normal pens," Toriel said. "They're a lot less messy and more convenient. Still, I would believe these would be useful for you, Frisk. For learning to have better control over your pen strokes and other hand controls. To manage with _skill_ , _finess_ and _confidence_ , like a _true gentleman_ and now, like a person raised of royalty, as your actual parents have said," she added after seeing Frisk's quizzical look.

Frisk could not help but blush at that statement. His birth parents did talk to foster Mom and Dad about this the first time they finally met on Skype after all, once they went past the initial exchange of emails, and at length, to boot. It is true though, that he would need some practise in that aspect, having been prone to using more than necessary pressure on a pencil during his more frustrated moments. But that was improving, slowly. At least now he could write things out in a straight line and didn't need his teachers to literally _iron_ out his crumpled homework like way back in primary one. Those were the days indeed.

Madam Malkin's shop, on the other hand, seemed like any ordinary non-magical shop, if it weren't for the obvious variety of robes around, or the pointed hats, Frisk wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

He entered the store first, and the proprietor gave him a friendly nod from where she was straightening out a rack.

The lady, presumably madam Malkin herself had turned towards him when Toriel entered behind Frisk. Ms Malkin froze momentarily, giving Toriel a look Frisk recognised as fear. It was gone in two heartbeats, as mdm Malkin adopted a professional mask. "Welcome. How can I help you two?"

"My child is attending Hogwarts this fall, Toriel said, smiling at the lady. "I heard that you're the best place to be fitted with a school uniform."

"Thank you." Madam Malkin said, and turned to Frisk. "What's your name?" she asked.

"It's Frisk. Frisk Goh Dreemurr."

Behind him, Frisk could feel Toriel beaming, that foster parent or otherwise, it would still take her a long time to get over hearing him identifying himself with her.

"Alright, Frisk, let me fetch my measuring tape." Truth be told, it didn't take long for the numbers to be crunched and Frisk fitted into comfortably fitting robes along with the shirt and trousers that was to form his school uniform. Frisk had taken the prods around as a minor distraction, his focus being on mdm Malkin's face, as she had been very carefully avoiding Toriel's face whenever she could.

"There you go. Plenty of room for a growing wizard." She stepped back to take a better look. "And looking like a fine gentleman in the making."

"I suppose i'll have to get used to hearing that first term," Toriel said, smiling. Mdm Malkin gave Toriel a quick, nervous look, but Frisk had caught that, even if mum had not.

Later, when they had finished making payment, Toriel made to push the door, then paused, as Frisk had not yet joined her.

The child had gone up to the shopkeeper, looking at her through spectacled eyes. "I know you're scared, mdm Malkin," Frisk told her with his soft voice, sore through years of not enough use. "But mom couldn't have hurt someone. I know the stories too."

Toriel looked horrified, and made to grab her child's hand, but Frisk stood his ground. "I know what it's like to be scared, scared like that."

The shopkeeper had flustered to a bright scarlet. "Frisk…" Toriel began, but Mdm Malkin interrupted. "No, your son's right." Mdm Malkin visibly swallowed, then looked up to Toriel with a firm gaze, for what the monster realised, was the first time. "I want to apologise…" Mdm Malkin flustered around the fact that she never asked for a name.

"Toriel," Frisk supplied.

"Ms Toriel," she spluttered. She caught herself, took a deep breath, and continued. "Toriel, I must apologise for this behaviour. We all got reminders from certain parts of the wizarding community. Parts I don't want to associate myself with." She gave a rueful smile. Afterall, I'm what they would call a mudblood. A witch, or wizard with muggles for parents. It was un…" She searched for the word. "It was unreasonable and I apologise. You are clearly a mother who cares for her son."

Toriel was clearly taken back by those words. "Thank you," she said after a few moment's review. "I understand that you're not used to seeing monsters around, so it can be difficult to acclimate. Thank you for your honesty, and for your kind words." She held out a paw, and Madam Malkin shook it.

With the new robes and suit stored in Toriel's shopping bag, the two left the store.

Frisk thought that Toriel was going to admonish him for speaking up, but all she said was "Let's go find Ollivanders'."

Ollivanders, (which Frisk was convinced was missing an apostrophe,) was another shop that, under cursory examination, could pass off as a non-magical one. In this case, it could pass off as a shoe shop, if the shoes were half the size at the width, in particular.

"Come in, come in," said a voice from the back. "Another new Hogwarts student?"

"He is," Toriel said, smiling. "Ah, and a former prisoner, if you would pardon the term, of the Mount Ebott Barrier. It was nasty business, and I hope that you won't hold it against the wizarding world." Ollivander said, giving them both a bow.

"Not if they're as polite as you," Toriel said, smiling. Frisk nodded in agreement. They then both introduced themselves.

"Please, have a seat," Ollivander said, pointing to the only other chair in the shop, "and I promise that we'll find you a wand best suited to your personality. It is after all, the wand that chooses the wizard!

Now then, you came up with the rest of the monsters, right?" Ollivander asked.

Frisk nodded again.

"Ah, such an act of justice! We should start with chestnut and… yes", Ollivander went to a shelf at the side of the shop and brought a box out of the pile it was in without causing an avalanche.

"There we go," Ollivander said, taking that wand and presenting it to Frisk with a flourish.

"Chestnut, with a core of unicorn hair."

Frisk looked at it hesitantly. It felt cool and smooth, but it didn't actually do anything. "Give it a wave, please?" Ollivander said, waiting expectantly.

Frisk gave a wave of the wand, grinning at the memory of Madjick. But it didn't do anything other than give a glow at the tip. Ollivander was disappointed, to say the least. "Hmm, I was sure it would work. "Let's see, you emerged from a great trial. Maybe Fir?"

He kept the chestnut wand away and went to a different pile of boxes. These were less deft compared with the others, plus the boxes on top of the one he selected shaked dangerously before settling.

He passed the wand inside to Frisk.

This one was far more dramatic than the one before. Before Frisk could even make a move with the wand, it glowed and Frisk cried out in pain, dropping the wand back into the box it was in.

"Are you alright, my child?" Toriel asked in alarm.

"It… didn't like me," Frisk muttered as he wriggled his magically burnt hand.

"Fir and Dragon Heartstring…" Ollivander announced.

"Oh… Does it hurt the dragon to retrieve those?" Frisk asked anxiously. "Are they intelligent creatures?"

"No," Ollivander said, shaking his head. "They're not sentient, if that's what you're asking. They're essentially just giant lizards."

"Oh… I don't think I can bear to bring myself to use one of those, even if that's the case…" Frisk could only say, mollified.

"No fir… and no dragon heartstring either," said Ollivander, giving Frisk an appraising eye, apparently going over what he had said. "Very well then, Pine… do I have a pine wand with phoenix feather somewhere?" He went to a shelf, then another, and another before finding a box with the type of wand he was searching for, enthralled by the challenge Frisk had presented him.

This one didn't mind being handled. But even with the wand being shakened and waved about, quite foolishly in fact, it simply remained aloof and unresponsive.

"I, I was so sure," Ollivander said, fascinated. "Hmm, I have an idea. Mr Frisk, what do you wish to do when you grow up?"

"I want to help people." Frisk said, unsure of what he was being asked.

"Ah, I see. An auror then? A… guard against Dark magic?" Ollivander added after seeing Frisk's quizzical look, "Or maybe a healer?"

"A healer." Frisk said quickly.

Ollivander gave a look of nostalgia, plus that hint of a tear...but it was gone in a heartbeat as he nodded. "I still think phoenix feather. But maybe with willow wood instead."

Searching for that wand eventually led to Ollivander balancing precariously on a ladder for a few moments before finding it's box and passing that to Frisk.

He tried that, and though it responded, it still didn't feel right.

"We're on the right track at last." Ollivander said happily. "But it's strange… None of the wands are acting like it's the first wand you've ever picked up. Still, let me find a pear wand and…"

"I'm sorry, did you say Pear?" Toriel interrupted. "Like the fruit tree?" Ollivander nodded to her.

Toriel then reached into her bag and produced a very familiar stick. The stick, his companion throughout the underground, and handed it to mr Ollivander. "This is the stick my child brought with him through the underground. It's pear, is it not?"

Mr Ollivander took the stick in his own, wizened hands, turning it over many times. Then he brought out a familiar looking screwdriver like thing, ran it over with a red light emitting from the screwdriver, raised it up to check the readings… and, seemingly realising his mistake, pulled a wand from his pocket and tapped it on the stick, which caused golden sparks to emerge from it.

"Well I'll be, Ms Toriel, this is magic grade wood!" He handed the stick back to Frisk. Frisk grasped it. Though it did feel familiar, it was no magic equipment. But there must have been a hint of confirmation somewhere in his body gesture, or eyes, since mr Ollivander's own eyes were wide with excitement.

"Yes! Yes! Fantastic, Brilliant! All it needs is a core, and polishing! Phoenix feather, do you think?"

Toriel's eyes were thoughtful at that moment. "Can you… Use other magical creatures as a core for the wizard's wand?"

"Other wand makers do. I know other makers who use veela hair, troll whisker, basilisk horn. But I only use…" Ollivander cut himself off and his eyes narrowed. "Wait. Are you suggesting…?"

Toriel nodded.

Ollivander positively raced into the backroom. "A comb! Or a brush! Let me find a comb…"

He paused. Frisk had taken out his own Sonic screwdriver from his pocket and raised it to his own face, activating the light and sound effect that came with it.

"Hold on… why would you have sandshoes lad's screwdriver? Did he give that to you permanently, or did he drop it and you retrieved it? And why are you waving it about and pointing it like that? Sonic screwdrivers, They're scientific instruments, not weapons! Oh sandshoes and chinny lads, quite the impression you've made on the children."

"They're not sandshoes, sir, they're…" Frisk managed to say, exasperated.

"They're sneakers, yes dear, i know. You should see the state they were in then, though… Still, two or more sonic devices working together can be quite the deadly combination… pity about _that_ _dalek_ , or our showing off," mr Ollivander(?) conceded, raising a hand to calm the lad. "Haven't seen that one in quite a while…" He now said, refocusing his attention on Frisk's replica of the screwdriver.

"Remembered when he pointed that thing at me alongside Chinny! Way back in that forest a long time back! And me? Captain Grumpy that one would later call me. To think that it all started, way back when I was down in the dumps, by _The Moment_ , that darling with the interface avatar of _Bad Wolf_ _Girl_ … Rose, I remember her real name being..."

He then noted Frisk's eager eyed face, having shifted from exasperation to blank confusion at the mentions of "chinny," to that last face. "Oh wait, it's currently still the year 2008. Oops… Sorry, spoilers, dear."

It took a while for the full blown nerdgasm to break out, but break out it did.

"Oh my goosh, OMGee OMGeee, Doctor, I can't believe it's you! You've regenerated, again." Frisk managed to say, before having to catch a breath. He then continued on a tirade for a while about the adventures he had seen on tv, and about the screwdriver he had being a replica, before catching himself and remembering the time.

"Ah, I see. You're a fan of the show based off my adventures. Fantastic chaps, those actors who portrayed my companions and me, all of them. Fans of me and my adventures... some a bit like that LINDA lot, some not quite, and even some _became me_.

I recall you mentioned about your emergence from the Mt Ebott underground with the rest of the monsterkind inside. And emerged with every monster inside alive, despite the odds? A fine display, my dear, a fine display indeed. I'm proud of you. May it never fade. May it never fade... That whenever you can, you ensure that Everyone Lives!

Now, I've been in the business long enough, to see that sometimes, you sign something or give some souvenirs for the fans…" Ollivander began on that chain of thought.

"Ermm, I might not be able to do much for you, dear, but I can give you something special indeed. In this instance, I can make a casing for your wand to be like my current sonic screwdriver," he said, letting Frisk see his sonic screwdriver. "Would that be fine? Or a different incarnation? And what colour for the screwdriver light casing?" He asked with a smile, ruffling his hair to be like the doctor of war.

"Yes please, Doctor." Frisk said, his eyes, twinkling for reals this time as he returned that sonic screwdriver back to mr Ollivander. "And my favourite colour is red, but I don't feel too comfortable with using red for the light casing… _The Master_ , as you faced him before as the David Tennant! Doctor, used that laser screwdriver, to harm you and all. Red being quite the common colour of evil and all… I'm not too sure I want to associate myself with that colour and…"

Mr Ollivander now emerged from behind the counter, kneeled down to Frisk's eye level and placed his hands on Frisk's shoulders. "Listen, dear, I know that you don't want to associate yourself with evil, and you want to stay away from it. That's a good thing. But staying away from a colour, or a particular taste of clothes, even though you like it, or don't like it, sometimes to the point of bullying someone for it, all because you associate it with evil or something along that chain, is not. Look at me, Frisk dear, I'm about to tell you some spoilers stuff, and for the sake of the timings, I would like you to keep it." Frisk nodded. So mr Ollivander took a deep breath, and continued.

"Back when I was in this body, I used it to fight in a war, to save the universe from breaking down. In the name of peace, and sanity, but not in the name of the doctor. I used to think myself unworthy of that title, doing the many questionable things I did to keep evil from winning, even, (at this point, mr Ollivander switched to a rueful smile,) attempting to use The Moment to end both Time lords and Daleks."

He now allowed himself a hopeful smile. "But _The Moment_ had other plans. As I've mentioned, She took me on a journey to restore hope for myself, bringing in Sandshoes and Chinny lads to that end. Sure, it took a while, but in the end, when it really came down to it, I found that I was like the doctors of before, and the doctors since, on the day it seemed impossible to get it right. Sandshoes and Chinny told me so themselves. Even managed to save Gallifrey itself, even if it's debatable whether or not it was ultimately worth it...

At this point of my life, with retirement in mind, I revisited this face again, to give it a chance to live the life it was denied. Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself."

"Oh, that's alright, Doctor!" Frisk said, frantically waving his hands about. "Carry on!"

("So much like Chinny,") mr Ollivander thought, smiling at that particular memory. ("But then again, you are an actual child…) Anyway, the point is, don't be afraid to use red, if that truly is your favourite colour, or whatever you feel is your favourite style of clothings, within reason. Whatever that screams you. Remember that it truly is what you do with it, that truly matters."

"Thank you sir." Frisk said, clearly lost for other words.

"No problem, darling. To maintain the conspiracy, i would suggest a new name to refer to me as. You can continue referring to me as mr Ollivander, or…" Mr Ollivander thought for a while. "the Joybringer. Please do not call me the great healer. That's the title Davros used to have, would make some people really uncomfortable."

Frisk nodded.

"Now, this would take a while, so I would suggest finishing whatever other business you might need to take care of, and when you're done, I would have the wand ready for you." With that, mr Ollivander got up and left for the backroom of his shop.

Later during the day, when Frisk returned to Ollivander's, the wand (not polished, as per Frisk's request and held inside a casing resembling the war Doctor's Sonic screwdriver (it's bigger on the inside),) gave off such a warm light that everyone was convinced that it wasn't just a good idea to have this wand made, it was the perfect choice.

Thus, Frisk had the first wand of Ollivander's made of a core of monster fur and a bandolier of his own (think the one used by Cass, as it was when _war! doctor_ first picked it up,) to store that wand in the sonic screwdriver, (with a note of thanks and support, signed by the man himself). For Ollivander, he was in for several weeks of happy experimentation as payment.

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me through this chapter. I hope I've portrayed John Hurt's Doctor accurately… Some part of this dialogue is based off the interview after mr Hurt's passing, that he had fun on the set itself, that he was acting more youthfully compared with David Tennant and Matt Smith, despite the bleak setting that defined his character… Hope I didn't have mr Ollivander come off seemingly cringe worthy or off character. This was added in as a joke moment, because of that one River Song quote, but one moment I hope the doctor himself would bear to do someday, minus the setting I placed him in…

One more part before the main story resumes. I know that some of you would be waiting for me to get on with it already, so this is a note on that matter. Next stop; the Flourish and Blotts encounter, and Frisk's retelling of his journey through the Underground (abridged).

One last thing: I understand that at some point, someone would post fanart of this fic. When that happens, please tag it with " _dreemurrinneed_ " and give me a link via private message, whether via or by my facebook page " _art of ho bing lin_ ," you may also drop your reviews there as well. I would love to take a look at it. Thank you!

Till the next upload. See you!

Doctor who credits theme (Revival series 4ish version). Sorry, Couldn't resist.


	5. Chapter5: Supplies & Life of Frisk told

Chapter 5: Supplies (part2) and Life of Frisk told.

A/N: Warning! Undertale spoilers incoming as of the second half of this chapter. Please also note that the backstory detailed here is a combination of my own experiences growing up and what we know of Frisk from the game. Thank you for your kind understanding and let's get into it.

With Papyrus and Sans:

Flourish and Blotts, on first inspection, could pass as an ordinary bookstore. Mostly. For that day and some days before and after that, first impressions inside the store would be made at the sight of fanged books in cages snapping at people and at each other. Normally, such impressions would cause people, like the non-magical folks and especially folks with cynophobia to hightail the heck out of there. But the skeleton brothers aren't either of those, discounting that they're skeletons or any of the monster species in the first place.

They managed to stay for longer than the first few impressions seconds and for them, the presence of the fanged books had the added advantage of allowing them to enter the shop in the first place without too much of a broo ha ha beyond the standard stare or the frightened look set.

"ALRIGHT SANS," Papyrus declared after putting away his sunglasses and taking out the book list Toriel had given him, "WE SHOULD DIVIDE AND CONQUER, THE WORTHY TASK WE'VE BEEN PRESENTED WITH!" Now brandishing said list like some sword.

"huh." Sans said, oblivious to his brother's declaration. "what's going on over there?" Now that it's pointed out to him, Papyrus realised it's true. The entry into the bookstore had been uneventful, the crowd's attention being on the cages at the cashier's table. "i'm gonna check it out." Sans told him.

"Sans! YOU'RE SO EASILY DISTRACTED." Papyrus exclaimed.

Sans turned around to face his brother. "what do you think i am? A numskull?", shrugging as a rimshot was heard.

"ACK!" Papyrus exclaimed. "BOOKS, SANS! NOT PUNS!"

"ok, ok. chillax bro," Sans said, his eye lights glinting.

They began moving down the list. Locating the Standard book of spells (grade one), Fantastic Beasts and where to find them, and had just located the Essential Defense against the Dark Arts, when a cry was heard from the crowd at the cashier's; "it's loose! It's loose!"

"Alright, now i have to see," Sans said, disappearing between the shelves.

Papyrus shook his head, and pulled the defense book from the shelf, adding it to a small stack in his hand. "One thousand magical herbs and fungi," Papyrus read off the list when the shoutings and occasional screams got louder and more excited. Unable to concentrate, Papyrus reluctantly abandoned his task and went in the direction of the noise.

One of the fanged books had indeed gotten loose and is now currently trying to bite the hand off the distressed looking proprietor.

"I swear it! I'm never going to stock them again!" he said, trying desperately to recapture the rogue piece of reading material. The fanged book took one more lunge at the cashier and fled into the gap between the nearby shelf.

Papyrus carefully set his accumulated stack of books down.

"Let me, the great Papyrus, handle that book!" he declared, folding his arms as though expecting a dramatic wind to rustle the scarf he wasn't wearing.

There was gasps and murmurs to be had all around when Papyrus strode past the crowd and the stunned storekeeper and reached the gap between bookshelf and wall, aggressively reaching for the book.

A bad choice made to be sure, thus no one else was surprised when he did get bitten.

"OUCH!", Papyrus cried out, wriggling his hand.

"A small setback!", he declared not long after.

Papyrus took a while to consider his options, then knelt down so as to be at eye-level with the rogue tome. Beady black eyes stared back, getting a good view of animated skull. Papyrus recognised the expression in those eyes.

"You're scared." Papyrus would have whispered, if he was capable of it.

Papyrus then reached out his hand again. But not to grab at the book again. Rather, he just had his hand palm out, easily within biting range. The book didn't react at first, which is a good sign. Then came the sniffling sound. "That's right." Papyrus said. "Will you allow me to touch you?"

The book didn't reply, but neither did it growl again, so Papyrus had that going for him. Papyrus ran one bony finger over the very top of the book's cover. It didn't snap at him, but it did maneuver itself so the spine is facing towards the opening.

"You put your back to me," Papyrus said, miffed.

"Your back? Oh! Your back!" He moved his fingers down the book's spine, and was rewarded by a cooing from the book.

"You want your back stroked." Papyrus said happily. He continued this for two minutes. "It's dark down there, book. Let me pick you up."

Having done so, Papyrus turned around to face the audience, still stroking the fanged tome. There was silence in the crowd when the skeleton unveiled his prize. Some of said audience hurried away at the sight of the skeleton. Two redheaded teenagers with bright eyes however, openly applauded.

When Papyrus held out the tamed book out for the manager to take, the book woke from its reverie and gave a warning growl.

He backed off. "Ah, I think you should keep it. Not sure what kind of dark magic a skeleton has…"

"hey." Sans spoke up from behind him, his eye lights dimmed to the point of being barely visible. "papyrus wouldn't use any dark magic. Just because we're from mount ebott…" his voice trailed off.

"I'm...I'm so sorry," the man said, flustered. "These books had me in a bend. My apologies mister… Papyrus?"

"yep. Papyrus. I'm Sans. Sans the skeleton. No hard feelings?" Sans asked, holding out his hand.

"None, mr Sans," the shopkeeper replied, taking Sans' hand. Immediately, there was the loud, terrible sound of someone breaking wind. There was a howl of laughter from two of the watching twins. The shopkeeper stomped off to collect his dignity. "Chomping books, practical jokes playing skeletons… this just isn't my day…"

"Set up, and delivery, George," said one of the twins, bowing to the masterful work. "Flawless execution Sans!"

"We should study muggle practical jokes, for inspiration if nothing else, Fred," said the other twin, bowing as well.

"thank you, thank you," said Sans, stuffing the whoopie cushion back into his pocket.

"Sans, could you pick up…" Papyrus thought about what he wanted to say. "the books. Could you pick up the books and carry them to the counter, please? My hands are busy at the moment." He was still stroking the monster book of monsters.

"We'll get them!" the twins said together.

Sans, Fred and George then spent the next few minutes chatting about different jokes, practical or otherwise, as Papyrus found the remaining books in the list and placed them on his pile at the counter.

"LAZYBONES," Papyrus admonished.

"just doing my part for human-monster relations," Sans said, shrugging.

Fred and George were called away at this moment. Not long after, Frisk and Toriel walked in. After an update on the situation, Papyrus then introduced the two to the monster book of monsters. It was a rough start between Frisk and the monster book, but with Papyrus facilitating as a bridge between the two, it ended with those two being friends.

"Just keep it," the storekeeper told them tiredly as Toriel went up to pay for the collection. "I don't think we can put it back in the cage even if we wanted to…"

"THANK YOU HUMAN!" exclaimed Papyrus. "I SHALL ENJOY PERUSING ITS TEXT AND I HOPE TO FIND SKELETONS IN IT!"

* * *

Present day:

Frisk woke up, at first unsure of where he is. Then realisation dawned, and he gathered his school things, got dressed and left for breakfast.

After the feast the night before, breakfast was reasonably simple, with much more familiar food.

Ginny was there, and while she gave him a friendly nod, she was busy chatting with her friends. A prefect, Percy, he remembered he was called, was busy handing the first-year schedules. With breakfast done with, it was time for Frisk to locate his first class.

Transfiguration was the second subject Frisk was introduced to at Hogwarts. When he first entered the classroom, he found a cat at the teacher's table, apparently taking attendance. Normally, he would be absolutely startled by the lack of an obvious teacher, but after the Underground, it wasn't something he wasn't used to.

Afterall, if a ghost could teach history of magic, and the dog patrol could guard the area outside Snowdin, why can't a cat teach transfiguration? The cat transforming itself into professor McGonagall on the other hand, that caught Frisk by surprise.

As the spellwork naturally required vocal work, Frisk had a hard time even get into the swing of things. However, once prof McGonagall got him into a pattern of thinking about the task at hand, the required incarnation plus wand gesture, plus the fastest speed he could say it coherently (with instructions to gradually up the speed, just in preparation of being needed in combat.) Frisk found that he could manage just fine, an average student as one might say.

When the lunch bell rang and the first year Gryffindors prepared to file down towards the great hall, Frisk was interrupted. "Ah, mr Dreemurr?" McGonagall called out, "a word please."

Frisk's mind began to wander across all the things he could have said or do or even not say or not do that could have earned him a summon. It turned out to be with regards to the Underground.

After waiting for the rest of the gryffindors to file out of the classroom, professor McGonagall continued.

"Now, I've had my fifth year Gryffindors in for my first period of the day, and I overheard an interesting rumour," she said.

"That this evening, you were going to tell the story of how you fell into, and escaped from the underground."

Frisk blinked. "It was going to hang over my head eventually. I figured I should just get it over and done with."

"I think it's a good idea," McGonagall told him. "Do you mind if I sat in and listened as well?"

Frisk shook his head. "Oh no, mdm, not at all." Though he was bemused by all the attention he was getting, especially more so after his condition was brought to light... Apparently when his brother's own condition was raised up, it was more or less the same for him.

"Mister Potter, I suspect, would be relieved the attention will not be solely on him, for a change.

Frisk gave her a confused look, even more so by the slight smile professor McGonagall allowed herself. "Ah well, go to lunch, mr Dreemurr, I'll see you this evening."

There was to be double potions that afternoon, with the slytherins. Frisk could not help but give a slight shudder. He'd heard the rumours, after all, that some of the slytherins could be quite the bullies and that professor Snape was easily the toughest professor to impress. Doubly so for Gryffindors. Nonetheless, he dug out his potions book to read over during lunch, (he did so once over the summer break and found it to be more or less like chemistry as his brother had described to him,) determined to impress the unimpressable.

It didn't work. Professor Snape had already been irritated by something that afternoon, and thus found something to criticise about every. Single. Cauldron over at the Gryffindor tables, regardless of their actual statuses. The Slytherins were either better potion brewers, or plain immune to his criticisms. It was almost with relief when Frisk went up to the Great Hall for dinner, though his stomach was already churning from what he promised to do that evening.

But he was determined to see it through.

Thus, after dinner, when he climbed through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor Common room, he wasn't surprised to find it already filled up with students of all years. McGonagall sat at one corner, alone, the students having given her a wide berth. A high backed chair had been pulled near the fireplace, facing towards the crowd, his place to sit.

When he finally sat down on that chair, the volume, which had already been gradually lowering since his arrival, came gradually to a full, dead stop. Professor McGonagall had already pulled out her quill, already making some notes on a parchment.

He looked at the crowd, spotted some familiar faces; Ginny and the twin Weasleys, whom all gave their respective nods at their own timings. There was also that probable fifth Weasley, and his year classmates. Then there were the faces he didn't recognise, including that dark haired boy with blue eyes and that odd lightning bolt scar, whom he swore looked a bit familiar…

He swallowed and smoothened the rest of himself. Showtime.

With a clearing of his throat to signal his readiness, he began.

"Hi," he began nervously. "I'm Frisk Dreemurr, Frisk Goh Dreemurr. Yeap, two surnames. I'll get to that in a while. About seven weeks ago, I climbed Mount Ebott. We've all heard the stories right? The legends?"

A brown haired girl, right next to the lightning scarred boy raised her hand. Frisk blinked and paused. "It's said that those who climb Mount Ebott do not return," the girl said.

"Let him speak, Hermione," the fifth probable Weasley said, giving her a playful shove.

"It's ok," Frisk said. "She's right, afterall. There's a reason for it. There's a hole in there, a hole to the Underground." He stared at the rug on the floor and swallowed. Could the people who do understand him explain to the ones who don't clearly enough? Still, he had to get those parts of his backstory out of the way. He looked back up and continued. "I didn't have a happy school years childhood. Before coming here, i grew up in Singapore…"

"Where's that? China?" Interrupted a girl somewhere.

Before he could reply, the brown haired girl from before, Hermione, he believed she was refered to as, replied. "Singapore is not a part of China. It is part of the SouthEast Asia region. The closest countries next to it are Malaysia and Indonesia, but you'll probably won't believe it since it has a Chinese majority instead of malays. It was our crown colony in the Southeast Asian region and officially gained full independence in 1965…"

"Blimey, Hermione, that's enough information for now…" informed the fifth weasley, speaking on behalf of nearly everyone else present.

"Thank you…" Frisk told her. "Anyway, my childhood was fine enough as it is. But the moment school officially began, that's when things became bad. I could not cope with the Singapore school curriculum, which also had me learn my mother tongue alongside english, in this case, it's chinese, or more specifically Mandarin, as part of Singapore 's bilingualism policy. It got to the point when i was just scraping by…" A small handful of students around looked at Frisk with sympathy. Frisk took a deep breath. "So in an attempt to make things easier for me, my biological parents, from whom i have the surname Goh, sent me overseas to here, so i can spend the remaining bit of my childhood happy, before it transits to the teens, with one of my uncles from my mother's side, and his wife. But that didn't really come to be.

My uncle and that aunt, they meant well, i get that in retrospect. But, i guess they haven't raised a child, especially one with "special needs" as they called it before me," he said sadly, nodding over to professor McGonagall.

"My Aunt, she was the nice one. Uncle though, a tiger dad he turned out to be. Never really cared or interacted much during family visits. Didn't acknowledge me much. Always obsessed with grades. Told me to be studying when i just want to relax. Worst, if the grades i returned to him weren't top percentage perfect in everything i should know, he'd beat me up over it. Shouted at me in public, or something along that line, especially for mandarin, which i could barely scrape by even at home and with help. It was the worst part for me." There were a few gasps at that line, a few bowed their heads in sadness, the angry and confused lot, plus those few who turned to look at the lightning scarred boy and some further others, towards the chubby boy clutching onto a toad, which was struggling to escape. "Plus the non extracurricular activities free time after school were filled with supplementary lessons or tuition. Hours of it, actually. Even the times when it's technically relaxation time has been prescheduled. I used to like the piano, but my uncle, he twistered that time into something I didn't enjoy. The "aunt", she would temper my uncle into allowing me actual me time whenever she could, but there was only so much she could do…"

The next few sentences were difficult for him to speak, but he pushed on. "When I climbed Mount Ebott, I didn't want to return. I saw the reactions, and any of those factors could have already done it, but the thing that ultimately pushed that thought of going to Mount Ebott into freefall was…" At this point, the dam broke and the tears came freely falling. Tissues were given to him and a few comforting pats were given, from the obvious weasley twins plus Ginny, to… professor McGonagall herself of all people. She told him that it was alright if he couldn't complete the story in one sitting. To take up the story again after a break, or leave it for another evening. He chose to continue on after a short break and a glass of water to calm the nerves.

"the thing that pushed my idea into freefall, was my uncle telling me beforehand, after i returned back home with that 90 percent score on a particular paper, that by his standards, I was not a son to him. Sure, he said that in a fit of anger, in a particularly bad day for him, but the comment tore into me like a hot knife into butter. So when I got that result on one of my papers, i felt unworthy. I just wanted to disappear from it all. So off i went. I climbed mount Ebott, found that hole to the Underground, and I jumped…"

Thus began Frisk's actual telling of his underground journey. He spoke of his encounter with Flowey, how he was saved by Toriel. Details passed through, then there was laughter at the introduction of Sans and Papyrus, particularly from the twins. But, the only time he was truly interrupted, was when he was at the fight with Undyne.

"How could you not fight back against her? She was going to kill you and start a war!"

"Shut it, Cormac!" an older girl yelled at him, "You're always trying to pick a fight."

"It's probably a good question," Frisk admitted, now facing Cormac with his most determined glare yet. "But I knew how much Papyrus looked up to her. How could I hurt Papyrus' best friend?" Out of the corner of his eye, He could see professor McGonagall gave an approving smile. "I couldn't." Then he went on to talk about Mettaton. How his goal differed from Undyne, that it was to stop that war from restarting, not begin it anew.

He then turned his story towards the Undertale itself. Of Asgore's son, Asriel, and of the first journey back to the surface to fulfil his best friend's last request, to see the flowers of his village one last time, gone deadly wrong. Many eyes went damp at the reveal that Asriel didn't survive the night either. After pausing a moment to wipe the tear from his own eyes, Frisk went on to Asgore himself, how he hesitated to face him at last, fearful that the other monsters were just sugar coating up the descriptions of their king, then the actual face to face meeting at last, and how it turned out to be true after all, down to the hesitation to fight, just as Undyne herself described him.

"But I couldn't go on after that," Frisk said, deciding to tell his first lie in the story, via omission. "I knew, that if I confronted him for reals, one of us would die, in fact, I knew neither of us wanted to fight each other. In fact, I think that both of us were prepared to sacrifice ourselves so that the other could be free." There was a good reason he knew that. He lived through it after all. He remembered the fight with Asgore, the symbolic destruction of the mercy button, the deadly fire shows he made, even heard that melody of grandeur worthy of a king... and sadness, seen Flowey, that host body of Asriel's memories given consciousness, strike his own father's hope down, then performed a direct attack on the last few hitpoints that was his SOUL… even if all that technically never happened.

"But I got a reprieve," Frisk said, back on honest ground. "Undyne wanted me to do her a favour." He then gave the comical account of his "date" with the Royal scientist of the Underground, but skipped the True Lab itself, not mentioning the experiments with determination, or the amalgamations it unwittingly created.

"When I finally confronted Asgore at the barrier itself," Frisk said, "Toriel came. All the way from the ruins, to break up the conflict." He then explained how, in his hour of need, a whole group of people came, representing all the Monsters he came upon during the journey. Then came the final lie. "All I remember is blacking out," Which was technically true anyway. How else could one explain what was for all intents and purposes a lucid (and trippy) "fight" with the Archetypical demon figure in the story, that turned out not to be the case, who wielded abilities emitting most of the colours of the rainbow and the main colour they were created from in the first place, culminating with a trip into the core of said being to free the key friends made during the trip and then unlocking/restoring the demon's conscious? "When I finally came to, I was surrounded by the friends I had made, and the barrier was broken. Something must have happened… But I don't know what it was. We made our way to a ridge at the side of Mount Ebott, just in time for the sunrise for the Monsters to enjoy for the first time in a long while. By the time Toriel and I were ready to go down to get our home on the surface, that's when the Ministry found us… and you can guess the rest. The Monsters are finally free." Frisk concluded, allowing himself a small smile. "I… I hope I'm still welcomed at Hogwarts... in Gryffindor…"

There was silence for a few moments. Then came the applause. It didn't matter to Frisk where it started. What mattered was that it filled throughout the entire room.

A/N: Thanks once again for the wait, folks. This chapter's details took a while to think up. Especially the details surrounding Frisk's fall into the underground, what would have been the trigger for an asian kid, nevermind that he's eurasian… It's sad for me to instinctively think of the whole grades chase thing, and the tuition industry that came along with it. Plus tiger parents, even guardians… yeah it could get really messed up.

Just to reiterate, i myself am doing fine. Things are coming along at a smooth pace for me and i'm relatively relaxed. Stay tuned for the next chapter! Blkey signing out.


	6. Chapter 6: Classes Begin

Chapter6: Classes Begin (& Meeting a New Buddy)

Frisk was about to start work on his transfiguration homework, to give professor McGonagall a good impression of him. He had just taken his wand from it's casing when he noticed three older boys approach him. He noted that it was the boy with the lightning scar, the chubby boy who had the toad and the possibly a Weasley boy. "Hi," the chubby boy mumbled. "I'm… I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom. This is Harry potter and that's Ron Weasley."

"Hi," Frisk told him with a smile.

"I… I can sympathize with your past…", Neville mumbled again.

Frisk could only stare blankly.

"I too… have gotten shouted at before, because of results..." Neville clarified. "By my gramps… and being sent away from the parents in an attempt to lead a happier childhood? I totally get that too..."

"What Neville was trying to say," Harry told Frisk, "is that all three of us have a part of your experience that we know what it's like. If you need any help, Please do ask. Gryffindors need to stick together, right?"

"Right!" Neville and Ron chorused.

"Thank you…" Frisk told them, and he wholeheartedly meant it.

Over the next week, Frisk was gradually introduced to all the first year courses at Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of all the courses he had been introduced to, the one he felt was closest to being his forte was Charms. Professor Flitwick was an excellent teacher, or "cher", as he heard his elder brother mentioned overhearing his own classmates saying in reference to teachers in general. Professor Flitwick was ready to assist a student with wand positioning/handling and also had good jokes on hand to cheer up and calm down students whose charmworks had gone screwy. Frisk liked him almost immediately.

The one that gave him a nightmarish time was broom flying (101). It wasn't that he didn't like madam Hooch. Far from it actually. It was just that ever since his abseiling experience about a year prior, he was convinced that he should have his two feet on solid ground at all times, (or at least make sure he wasn't looking down from a great height until he's absolutely certain he's safe,) and his broom, a school supplied one since first years weren't allowed to bring their own brooms to school, apparently agreed with him. He spent an entire fifteen minutes calling the broom to go "Up!" before it finally agreed to do so. By then, most of the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had already taken to the skies. "Don't worry about it, Mr Dreemurr. Not everyone can be a natural flier. We can work on _that_ next week," was what Mdm Hooch told him.

For astronomy, that took place every Wednesday night, those were the times that students were allowed outside the dormitories after curfew. Sure, it was fun to look at the night time skies, after having most of the lessons and of the day itself confined to within the castle walls, but the coursework itself involved rote memorisation. A task at which Frisk was good at, but wasn't really fond of. Ms Sinistra tried to make the lessons interesting, an admirable effort to be sure, but it was History of Magic all over again as far as he was concerned.

Herbology was an interesting subject for him, though it was nerve-wracking at first, due to Professor Sprout indicating that they'll be studying a talking flower from the Underground. Frisk was thus relieved when he discovered that she was actually talking about studying the Echo Flower for those few weeks, though irritated that he'd fallen for the same bait and switch Sans pulled on him, unintended though, for Professor Sprout's case.

Frisk was on his way from herbology to his first ever Defense against the Dark Arts class when he was stopped by a sound. He turned around the corner to be greeted by the sight of a Gryffindor student racing down the corridor and turn left, to her next class. At first, Frisk didn't think much about that. She wasn't the first student running so as to not be late for class after all… Then, not fifteen seconds later, the same student came running through the corridor again… and turn to the right hand side. After a few seconds to register that sight, he realized he even recognized her. Hermione. The one who put up her hand during his story.

Curious, but not willing to be late for a lesson with a 'cher he had not yet meet, Frisk quickened his pace. If Charms was where his forte was at, Defense against the Dark Arts might just be his favourite class. He'd heard the rumours that surrounded the first lessons for most of the other years and if it was to happen for them as well, all the more motivation to be there on time… and on time he was.

"Would we be looking at boggarts?", Violet Mills asked Professor Lupin, after he had taken attendance and introduced himself.

"I'm afraid not," Lupin said, raising his hand in acknowledgement of the class' disappointment. "Not on the first week. I think I shall reserve that lesson for a special occasion. Instead, let us discuss a simpler creature, the will-o-wisp." With that, Lupin began, leading them all on an enjoyable ride of a discussion which saw everyone, including Frisk himself, contribute in.

When Saturday for that week came, even before starting on his homework, Frisk absolutely had to write a letter home. In it, he described the castle, his classes and even the food. Also, he included Luna's request for an interview for the Quibbler. But most importantly of all, he mentioned how homesick he was; both for his British home and his home country's. "I had just gained a family away from home," he wrote, "and had to leave both families behind. I hope you, foster dad, mom, dad, bro way back in Singapore and all the others are doing fine. Love, Frisk.

With that, he placed the letter into an envelope, sealed it and left for the owlery.

It was a relatively uneventful trip both ways, barring a brief encounter with the caretaker of Hogwarts', Mr Filch's, cat, mrs Norris, as unpleasant as the others had said she was, even to those who were trying to be friendly, and admittedly a bit creepy as to how much cat and owner seemed to be two pairs of a whole, like they've formed a pact somehow, and all the benefits that come with it….

The Owlery itself was a massive room filled with owls, some of the kinds Frisk had heard of, and some of the kind he didn't. He managed to enlist the assistance of one of the school's barn owls after the promise of a treat from Toriel's, (snails being one of an owl's favourite foods, as stated in her _Snails facts_ book). Once that was done, the rest of the weekend was spent doing his homework. "Was it really to be called homework, if it was done in the same building it was issued in?" That was the kind of thought Sans placed in his head. Some of those weekend's hours were spent by the lake, enticed by the thought of a second tentacled being other than Onion-San. It was even reportedly friendly, another reason for Frisk to check it out.

He got back a reply on Tuesday morning, a medium package with an extremely long letter that had it's reason being the replies from all his monster friends and that of his actual family back home, (sent via their home family, which Toriel printed out.) Mom had included her contact details, saying she'd be happy to do that interview, and the package itself contained, wrapped within many sheets of plastic wrap, not pie, but rather a standard packet's worth of cinnamon cookies with butterscotch chips. He would share some with Ginny and the Weasley twins later of course, but Frisk just couldn't resist taking one now.

It tasted like home.

* * *

The second week was the same like the last one. Transfiguration was still as hard, astronomy and history of magic still managed to be boring and cher' Snape still hated everything about Gryffindor in general.

But it was flying that felt like it's on ultimate difficulty in Frisk's book. After what felt like the 100th time in trying to get his broom to fly up to his hand this time around, Frisk finally paused to catch his thoughts. That was when one of the Hufflepuffs came up from behind him and broke into his chain of thoughts.

"It's your voice," the person said.

Frisk looked behind for the source of the voice. It was from a boy around the same height as him with black hair combed to his left hand side and spectacles.

"What do you mean?" Frisk managed to mutter.

"It sounds to me that you don't actually want the broom to come up, and it actually picked up on it," the boy explained. After a grin of embarrassment, especially on how true that was, the boy continued. Not sure if you understand the word… but, CERDI… YA!" Frisk instinctively straightened to his full height, and all the seriousness that comes with it… A moment that didn't flee the boy's notice. "You do recognise that term… Anyway, now that's done, take a second, and tell the broom to come up with confidence."

Frisk took a deep breath, focused on the broom and gave his best "up!" The broom finally acknowledged him. Frisk boarded the broom cautiously, trying to get a feel of it.

"Here," the Hufflepuff said patiently, "I'll stay with you. Don't worry about falling, that's what mdm Hooch is here to help with, right?"

"R-right," Frisk said dubiously. Over the course of the remaining minutes of lesson time, Frisk did fall, twice. But never far from the ground and mostly the damage from embarrassment than from the pain. Through it all, the Hufflepuff boy stayed virtue by his side, encouraging him.

When madam Hooch called for the brooms to be put away, Frisk stood by his benefactor. "Thanks. What's your name?" Frisk asked, wiping away the last bits of sweat from his forehead.

"I'm Aldson, Aldson Lodez, said the Hufflepuff. I was part of the Singapore Boys Brigade, hence those commands. When I grow up, I hope to be biologist."

"Hi, I'm Frisk. Frisk Goh Dreemurr," Frisk said, smiling. " I'm also from Singapore. When I grow up, I am to be an inventor… of stuff, yeah."

As the bell rang and they headed back up to the castle… "I heard that right? You're from Singapore?" Aldson asked. Frisk nodded. "Good to see another familiar face… Guess I'll see you around for the next year London Singapore birthday Party?"

"Yeah, totally. No place sweeter than home amiright?"

"Right," Aldson said, nodding. "Anyway, if you have time to spare on Saturday, head down to the pitch and we may be able to watch one of the teams practise. Plus, if madam Hooch lets us, we might be able to get some flying practice in."

"I'd like that, Aldson, thank you." Frisk told him, extending out a hand.

One handshake later, the two newly forged friends parted ways. For the second time in a month, Frisk was greeted by the sight of Hermione running in opposite directions to two separate hallways, no more than 30 seconds apart. Frisk could only stare after her, the confusion evident in his face.


	7. Chapter 7: Dementors explained

**Chapter 7: Dementors Explained**

Setting the mystery of the disappearing third-year aside, Frisk completed the trek up to the Defense classroom and sat amongst the assembled Gryffindors. Professor Lupin was already there, counting attendance until he's satisfied that all were present.

"Today class, we're…"

To Frisk's right, one of his fellow Gryffindors put up his hand. "Excuse me,sir? Professor Lupin?"

Professor Lupin looked away from the book he was about to pick up and turned around to face the class. "Yes, Walter?"

"During the opening feast, Headmaster Dumbledore said that the dementors were patrolling the castle grounds, and I'm pretty sure I encountered one during the train ride to here. But what is a dementor?"

Professor Lupin's face sprouted a wry smile, before turning serious. "I actually expected to have this lesson last week, actually. But they're still here, so it's still important. So, let's see who knows what about dementors. First and foremost, who can tell me where they were first discovered? Anyone?"

A few students raised their hands. Professor Lupin cast his gaze across the students… and nodded at one particular student.

"Go ahead, Keith."

"Azkaban Island. Where the prison is."

"Correct. Take five points." The prof said. "The prison was constructed there because of the dementors." He then went on to give a brief history of the Azkaban Prison, about how it was constructed in the early 18th century.

"But that does provide the question;" Lupin continued, "Why are dementors such potent guards?"

Nobody amongst the students had an answer to this. They had all encountered dementors onboard the train, but no one wanted to think about what had happened afterwards. Not one hand rose to the air.

"No one even wants to hassle a guess?" asked Lupin, surprised. "I don't blame you. Dementors attack by sucking all the happiness around you, leaving you with just your most miserable thoughts. Even the air surrounding them turns cold."

Frisk felt his blood turn just as cold. He looked around him. His classmates all seem to have similar thoughts about the situation, as their faces have paled and anxious looks pasted on.

Walter put up his hand again. "But if you're around them for any period of time, sir, wouldn't that… " his voice faltered. Frisk felt as horrified as he looked.

"Drive people insane," Lupin confirmed. "Yes."

"That's horrible!" Frisk exclaimed. "How could anyone possibly think **_that_** would be a good idea?"

Professor Lupin gave the class a very tight smile. "There are some people… certain aurors, who think Dark wizards _Deserve_ such treatment. To ensure that they don't ever hurt people again."

"Everyone deserves a second chance…" Frisk whispered.

The class as a whole was silent again. Digesting everything that they've heard thus far, weighted down at the thought of what it would be like, to be surrounded by those things, unable to have a happy thought again for the rest of their lives. Finally, Walter raised his hand again for the third time.

"What's underneath a dementor's hood?" he asked.

"That's a good question. Nobody really knows for sure." Lupin said. "They only lower their hood for one reason, to perform what is now known as the 'dementor's kiss'." The class could only stare at him, wondering just what new nightmare he was about to impart. "They take the soul of the victim, drawing it out through their mouth."

"W-what happens… to a person… w-without a soul?", Walter asked, the only person brave enough to ask, or maybe the one who felt he should see that session through to the end since he started that chain to begin with.

Frisk shut his eyes and covered his mouth, the only thing he could do without succumbing to the urge to scream or cry out in terror. When he managed to speak again, his voice was soft, but clear. "They continue on." His voice seemed to echo throughout the room. "It's still them… k-kind of…" He swallowed and took a deep breath. "They keep their memories, some resemblance of their personality, b-but… but… They lose all that lets them connect to others. They can't feel hope, they can't feel compassion… They lose the ability to love others, to feel love from others… They're just a shell…"

Frisk opened his eyes again to the sight of the whole class staring at him.

"But only if the person in question has the will to keep on living." Professor Lupin added. "Most don't. The Dementors take that from you, too." Professor Lupin once again had a look of concern, one that unlike the first time he gave it, at the first lesson, was held onto for a few moments more. But he couldn't think of what to say to him just yet. So instead he addressed the rest of the class: "Does anyone else have any further questions about the dementors?"

No one raised their hands.

"I was expecting at least one more," admitted Lupin. "I'm kind of disappointed no one asked about any possible defences against them, because there _is_ one. The patronus charm. It's designed to focus a single happy memory outside the body, so it will defend the casting wizard and _repels_ dementors, attacking them directly."

Professor Lupin then glanced at a clock at the wall of the classroom. "Alright, so what I intended to cover today, ghosts, it seems, would darken the class even further, and it is still too early in the fall for that. So instead, we'll be lighting the class up today with one of the most practical spells, the wand lighting charm. Please take out your wands." The class did so. "Consider this your first battle in the war against darkness."

After the descent into gloom that was the talk on dementors, it took a while for the words to permeate their brains. While some, including Frisk, applauded the pun once they registered it as such, the vast majority of the class emitted a groan. Now, the charm itself wasn't difficult. It took a few tries, sure, but once that was out of the way, Frisk was able to consistently have his wand emit a pleasant yellow light.

When the bell rang and the class began filing down for dinner, Professor Lupin called out to Frisk.

"Excuse me Frisk. I'm just curious, but, do you know someone who's been kissed by a dementor?"

Frisk violently shook his head.

"Maybe you've been spending time around Hermione then." Professor Lupin remarked, brushing his comment off with a smile. "Have a good evening, then."

Frisk hurried away, off to get some dinner. The professor just watched him leave, an odd expression on his face.

* * *

Saturday came. The cool breeze passed by the castle, a reminder that summer was now giving way to fall. Frisk was accompanied by Ginny and Luna along side his traditional flying partner Aldeson for the supplementary flying classes, Ginny and Luna, having been bribed by the thought of butterscotch and cinnamon cookies.

"It's good that you've recognised that you're falling behind in class," Madame Hooch told him. "Normally, I have to encourage such students to take supplementary lessons, but here you are. At your current state, I would recommend that you stay just stay one or two feet off the ground. Fortunately, there won't be any quidditch practice sessions till an hour later. So, no pressure from anyone to go higher off the ground," Mdm Hooch reminded the others sternly. "And, Luna?" Madam Hooch asked with a hint of resignation.

"Yes?" Luna asked, her unfocused gaze now turning towards the flying instructor.

"Please don't tell him to ride in a manner similar to yours… I don't care how much of a posture worthy of being high class you think it is. People need to master a normal grip first."

Frisk was improving, slowly. With his gaze focused solely on the school broom, he called for it to come to his hand. The broom came up on the third command. Now on the broom, Frisk adopted a vice like grip. He then turned to look at the others. To his astonishment, Luna didn't have the broom between her legs, but rather sat on it like she was on a chair. A lady-like position to be sure, but not something for riding a broom, or a horse for that matter.

As far as starting positions was, Madam Hooch had nothing to worry about.

"Alright, Frisk," Aldeson said, "How about we do some laps around the quidditch pitch, before practise starts?"

Frisk was glad they kept low the whole time as he was stuck in the trend of the lessons of the week and fell, twice. But once again, the biggest bruise dealt, was to his ego.

Just then, mocking laughter emerged from left field. "What's the matter? The little monster friend doesn't seem to belong in the air? He should return to below the ground with them!"

The laughter came from the pack of green clad students coming in for practise at the pitch. The lead chap was blond haired and had his right arm in a sling. Out of all the laughter from the lot, his was the loudest.

That hurt. Frisk could stand the taunts about him. He was used to it, having endured them ever since he started primary school, endured that kind of stuff on the bus journeys to and back from school. But suggesting that his friends from underground be trapped there again? That's going too far. He got back up, symbolically wiped the dust from his robes over casual exercise attire and focused. Not long after, a water spear formed in his left hand. The gesture was not lost on Draco and Ginny herself, who had swooped down to beside him, Ginny staring at what she had just seen. Draco on the other hand…

"Heh. Proved my point. A person so in tuned with monsters, he's practically become one. Or are you _really sure_ you're even _human_ to begin with?"

A flare of emotion rose within him, twice the level it usually increased by. Before he could say anything, Ginny raised her arm and signaled to him that she's got this.

"The only monsters I see here, are those you have to buy yourself to be part of." Ginny told Draco.

Before she could go on, Frisk pulled at her robes and shook his head. Taking a deep breath, Frisk dispelled the spear and looked Draco in the eye.

"You've never actually met any of them before, have you?" He asked Draco. "You don't know what it's like to be lost, cold and alone, then come across someone who's not even of the same species as you, yet willing to care and look after you, to take care of you... To give you help, because you've asked for it?"

"I don't need ANY help." Draco sneered.

Luna looked over to him with an interested expression. "So you'll be able to take on Gryffindor's team by yourself? Can I watch that?"

The others with Frisk burst into laughter. Even Frisk himself felt his lips twitch. Luna's seriousness was what sold it. She took Draco's words at face value, and turned it against him.

Draco's face contorted in anger. Frisk didn't think he even heard what Frisk himself said. He seemed ready to go after Luna, but he could see madam Hooch nearby, or maybe he remembered that he was wearing a cast.

"We'll see who's laughing after the cup's been awarded." Draco declared, stomping off to join his teammates.

Frisk watched him go, the sadness in his eyes apparent. Draco just seemed so intent on not mixing with others…

Ginny then broke into his chain of thoughts, indicating they need to leave the stadium to the slytherins' practise session. Frisk was disappointed, sure. The newcomers all were. But no more so than Luna.

"You mean, I won't get to see Draco play it out by himself?"

Madam Hooch was observing Frisk's form as the group returned.

"Much better. Though you need to learn to hang on more with the knees and with less grip on the handle. This adjustment will allow you more control when you make turns and ascends or descends. All that can be achieved with more practise."

"Thanks mdm."

He then turned to his companions.

"Would you mind doing this again next week? Ì always feel much shyer doing this alone."

"That Would cost you another cookie. I'm kidding. Sure. That was fun." Ginny told him.

"I agree. Never thought i would find something that could over take being part of Boy's Brigade for being fulfilling and fun, alongside hockey… yet here this comes, alongside quidditch, from what i've heard it to be." Aldeson told him. After putting aside the brooms, The group left for three castle grounds, taking in the sights and the breeze. A couple of owls flew by, apparently with mail to deliver.

"By the way, are they all like that?" Aldeson now asked the two older girls.

"Who? The Slytherins?" Ginny asked. Aldeson nodded.

"Seems that way most days. Malfoy's the worst of a bad lot, Flint's quite frankly more brute than skilled player," Ginny added dismissively.

"So, what's quidditch?" Frisk asked, fully intent on getting off the current subject asap. It turned out to be a bad idea, as Ginny launched into a tirade about the game in question, the player positions, the ball types and common strategies.

Frisk was overwhelmed and dizzy from the whole tsunami of explanations. Aldeson on the other hand, was apparently a water type where this subject is concerned, or even a sponge. His eyes were clearly sparkling and wide-eyed. At the castle entrance, the group parted ways. Each to their respective dormitories.

* * *

With the dinner of the day now inside his stomach, Frisk began some homework for the night, but he was distracted, the notes from the discussion about dementors fresh in his mind. While he was assured by the thought that at least most people wouldn't end up being Floweys because of dementors, the last part of the lecture still haunted his mind. Sure, most people wouldn't have the will to live post-dementor attacked, what of the supremely determined beings like Frisk himself was at the true climax of his journey underground? Could the dementors really drain determination fast enough to prevent another Flowey? Or would the world have an Omega Flowey to deal with...

Just then, an argument broke out, interrupting his thoughts. Under any other circumstance, Frisk would have been annoyed. But since the contents of that one was depressing and horrifying to begin with, he was glad to be knocked out of it. The source of the commotion was with regards to a ginger blur of a cat chasing down a rat, a common experience to be sure, cats being cats… and the owner of said rat. Ron Weasley. Normally he'd have thought nothing of it, especially in his younger days, cats being cats, and pet owners being pet owners. But ever since he got to the UK and what he'd endured before entering the mount Ebott zone, he'd developed an affinity for cats, utterly convinced they were his spirit animals. Mistrusting of strangers, but bounded to the ones who earned that trust. They were his companions during his falling outs after stressful times and he took time out to play with the stay cats around his zone. All that convinced him to really observe the situation and to intervene if need be.

"He must be feeling terrible right now…" Frisk whispered to Ginny, now aware that mutterings were beginning all around the common room.

"Who? Ron? Why?" Ginny asked.

"He's scared for his pet. He wanted to protect that friend and In That moment, it felt like he's gonna lose him…" Frisk trailed off. "How long did Ron have… what's his name, Scabbers?"

Ginny thought for a while. "A few years. I think he was Percy's pet before that."

"But, wouldn't that imply a long lived rat? That shouldn't be possible normally, right?" Frisk protested.

"We figure Scabbers has some magic in his bloodline somewhere…" Ginny mentioned, but she wasn't sounding certain, herself.

"Certainly raises some questions, doesn't it, Frisk?" Fred asked.

"What do you mean?" Frisk and Ginny asked together.

"Well, we have… Certain intel…" George told them, now coming over,

"That Ronnie has inherited Percy's guy lover… Or this dude, who's called Peter by the way, is a stalker related to Scabbers or something." Fred added slyly.

"But that's absurb and you know it, Fred!" Ginny protested. "Harry would have said something if Ron had been doing such things… right?", uncertain once again.

"Could be," Fred conceded. "Or maybe the entire floor has been bewitched too."

"Fred!"

"We're joking sis, we're joking. May "we're joking" indeed be true… but that would make _that_ intel false…"

"and the Intel's never been false… yet." George now said, thoughtful. "Still, something to think about... what with our part of the world and all, or maybe don't. Still, enjoy the night, sis. You too, Frisk!" the twins declared, leaving the two to their devices.

Frisk tried to get on with the homework he'd planned to do, but the twins ' cryptic message was on his mind for most of it. Sure, he'd managed to bite the bullet and get a decent way into the tasks of the day, but by the time he climbed into his bed, He was filled in the mind with familiar theories, or the occasional animagus thoughts. Not a state to fall easily into the realm of sleep in, sure, but he still managed to sleep relatively well.

* * *

Author's notes: Greetings! Thanks for all your patience in waiting for this chapter to come in. It's been a bit of a drag in getting myself to write this chapter, with some pains around thinking about it, not to mention work stuff. Not much of an excuse, and i do apologise for it. Just to assure you all, this story is very much still on. I've noted the favs coming in and I'm touched that you guys like what you've saw thus far, even if comments are lacking in giving a specific idea of what's getting you guys back for more so i can deliver those goods, public comments or otherwise. **(*Hint hint.)** Now, the enthusiasts would have noticed that i shifted bits of the Crookshanks scene about a month earlier. I've thought about it and though it isn't with the originals' continuity,figured i should try to prelude that… Or considering Frisk's own thoughts, just give him something to take his mind off it. From now on, this is the promise; I'll update whenever i can, trying to update within two months of the previous one. If not… I hope you understand. Thanks for reading this and have a great (rest of the) day.


	8. Chapter 8: Something to look forward to

Dreemurr in need Chapter 8: Something to Look forward to

* * *

By the time the curtain closed and opened anew for the month of October, Frisk had already settled into his new school routine, class timings and all.

But it was the weekends that had Frisk scrambling to attempt to schedule. Every Saturday morning, he'd attempt to go down to the pitch floor sessions with his flying practise partners, but with the current trend in the weather, it seemed that fate was conspiring to keep him indoors.

Not that he'd ultimately minded, for fate had opened another door on something else to spend his weekends on. Thus just after lunch, he went off in search of the Hogwarts music club. He'd heard about it before, from just a few, but this was the first time he actually attempted to find it. The search wasn't long. Rather, it was the cold that tested his resolve to find the music club room.

After a while spent on searching, he found what he was looking for. It exceeded his expectations and a bit some, a large, clean room with band members segregated according to their instrumental families, guided by some non-staff members. Standing at the front, with his back towards him, in the conductor's podium was none other than…

"Good afternoon, mr Dreemurr," professor Flitwick squeaked from where he was. "Do you need help with something? Or are you here to enjoy the music from our band?"

"Oh, good afternoon professor, everyone… I'll admit, I'm intrigued when my housemates mentioned the band. For now, I'm just dropping by for a look-see, and a listen, if you all don't mind…" Frisk replied, a little frantic and embarrassed by the attention he was now getting.

If there was any objections, Frisk wasn't detecting, or hearing any. Indeed, The ensemble was happy to entertain their guest. Within a few minutes of starting, they had swept Frisk into music land and though they didn't know it just yet, they had just reignited something once lost within him, something trampled under by resentment, lack of time to truly explore and then some, despite his teacher's best efforts, due to the grip of a tiger dad…

When every music piece ended, Frisk politely applauded and once the music itenary had run its course, Frisk gave his most enthusiastic applause yet. With the formalities out of the way, professor Flitwick turned to the band and announced a 10 minute break for them.

With that time in hand, Frisk took the opportunity to look at the instruments around. The strings instruments like the violins, guitars, brass instruments like trumpets, tubas… but those weren't what he was looking for. Just then, professor Flitwick came up to the seat next to his and sat down.

"Are you seeking to join our band?" the prof asked.

Frisk then reiterated his "just looking around," statement.

Professor Flitwick didn't look convinced, but didn't press on.

"Still, I'm glad you came to visit us. Don't really get any visitors on a regular basis."

He sighed.

"Not many young folks these days really listen to the classics. That you came, and had a good time thus far pleases me, along with the other band members. Yes, i can tell by your face before and after the performance," professor Flitwick added at Frisk's quizzical look.

"Music can be its own form of healing, you know. Of the mental kind. The in-your-head kind."

Frisk was jolted at this. He hadn't really thought of that, too focused on his healer = doctor mindset. Perhaps it was time for him to try out that notion anew, open to the possibilities, like his parents tried to drill into him.

The band members were all present when his audition was underway, gathered at where the piano was. It had been a nerve racking performance, with such an audience present. But Frisk pulled through, errors and all. The upstart of it all is that Frisk was inaugurated as a pianist of the band and told to come down whenever he could on weekend afternoons to practise (and enjoy the music together). A decision Frisk came to truly love.

* * *

Other than flying or the newly found membership in the music club, the letters were what he was looking forward to, particularly, news from his Monster friends. Ever since the barrier fell, the monsters who did choose to live on the surface were trying to integrate with, first the wizarding world, then the larger human society in general. In the meantime, Toriel and Asgore were kept busy, smoothing ruffled furs. Mettaton was having the worst of it. He wanted to be a star, and the confinement from the greater human society was hitting him pretty hard. Ms Alphys was trying to set him up with a local wizarding radio, but that was a far cry from the TV show he had underground, nevermind that he was working head-over-toe just to keep the UG folks' morale up and happy. While Frisk had no doubt how much of a hit "cooking with a killer robot" would be amongst his expanded audience, courtesy demanded that Frisk wish the ghost in the mini-mecha of a robot shell the best of luck.

Now, the week's letter, (mid October) was filled with the most cryptic message Frisk had ever since thus far: "Hopefully we'll see you earlier than any of us think." Frisk stared at the letter again, wondering what that meant.

The first clue came that evening. A notice at the board of the Gryffindor common room that the third-years and above were particularly excited, not to mention, happy about.

"Did anyone manage to catch What's going on over there?" he asked nobody in particular. Ginny came by and watched the feather floating nearby, the subject of his current practise session with interest, before turning to look knowingly at Frisk.

"First Hogsmeade visit," Ginny announced. "Third years & above are allowed on certain Saturdays to leave the castle and visit Hogsmeade."

"Winginsium Leviosa!", Frisk announced with a flourish of his wand.

"So what's Hogsmeade?" He asked Ginny.

"It's Wizarding Britain's one and only wizarding-only village," Ginny explained. "People usually visit to spend money in the sweet shop, amongst other places."

"Still, only third-years and above are allowed to leave the castle? What a shame. It would be great to be able to leave the castle once in a while," Frisk replied.

"True…", Ginny said, with a shrug. But before she or Frisk could say anything more, they were interrupted by a shout. The source was once again, from Ron, mad at the cat-based shenanigans and the damage that it had done to his pet rat. An argument between rat and cat owners broke out soon after, culminating with Ron picking up his rat and stomping back up to the boys' dormitory.

Frisk had rushed off to assist ron in intercepting the cat, for all the good that did, since Crookshanks dodged out of his attempts at nabbing the furball. Now, with the rat safe for the time being and Hermione, her face pale after this latest attempt, having grabbed Crookshanks from where he was attempting to force the rat from it's hiding place, Frisk now turned back to Ginny.

"This must have been the second major time this had happened…" Frisk said in that ever soft voice of his. "Are we really sure that Fred and George are kidding when they made THAT remark? I mean, cats and rats or mice should be able to tolerate each others' presences, but this is the first time I've seen a cat so very persistent."

"I… was certain that they were joking." Ginny said, uncertain. "But now that you mention it, that is a possibility I can no longer easily ignore. Oh, by the way, your feather has landed."

After recasting the levitation charm, Frisk proceeded to look around the common room. "Anyway, look at Hermione," Frisk whispered. "Be right back."

Now approaching Hermione at her corner of the room, Frisk saw that the girl had a fort of textbooks that covered a huge corner of the table she was using. Pulling up a recliner, Frisk now addressed the pale-faced senior.

"May I hold him?"

Hermione looked at frisk like he was some alien is human form. A funny thought now, since he did see some human shaped aliens…

"May I hold him, Crookshanks?" Frisk asked again.

Hermione considered for a while, then passed the orange-furred cat to him.

Frisk took the cat into his lap, an arm over the top, to comfort him and to prevent him from escaping. With the other hand, he began to stroke the cat's head.

"Are you alright?" Frisk asked Hermione, after the girl had some further time to cool down.

For a few moments, Frisk thought that Hermione was about to burst out in anger. Instead, she looked right at Frisk, as though seeing him for the first time. "He's just being a cat right? All cats chase right?"

"Maybe. But my current concern is not about Crookshanks, it's about you. How are you?"

Hermione looked up again from her pile of books. "I'm fine."

Frisk rolled his eyes. "I'm familiar with that lie. I've used that excuse so many times before going through the Underground myself. You're scared aren't you? Scared that Crookshanks would actually catch and eat your friend's rat?"

Hermione stared at Frisk. "Yes," she simply said. Was it his imagination? Or was there an actual tear in Hermione's eye? Either way, she continued. "I've never had a pet before. Crookshanks was lonely before I got him and I don't want to abandon him. But I also don't want to hurt Ron. He's my friend too."

Frisk was reminded of that phone call from Papyrus while in Waterfall, of him wanting to keep both friends safe and happy. "Did you hear that, Crookshanks?" He asked the cat sternly. Said cat looked up at the mention of it's name. "Hermione wants to be friends to both you and Ron. Could you consider not chasing his pet rat?" Crookshanks stared back at him, defiance clear in his eyes.

"Frisk," Hermione said tiredly, "he's just a cat, right?"

Frisk wasn't sure. Crookshanks certainly acted like he understood what he was saying. Still, he stood up, cat in hand and placed it back down on the couch he occupied before, a warm spot in the dead of the cold night, and made ready to head back to his usual chair to continue practising the levitation charm.

"Maybe, but I like being polite." Frisk said, smiling.

As he started to make his way back to his usual spot, Hermione called back to him:

"Frisk!" He looked back. Hermione gave him a tired, but grateful smile. "Thanks for knowing that I need someone to talk to."

Frisk stretched out both of his arms. Hermione looked perplexed at his offer for a few moments, before grabbing his right hand in for a handshake.

About a week later, after that week's monday transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall summoned Frisk again to her desk. Frisk twitched in worry, wondering what the issue was this time around.

"Mr Dreemurr, do you know of the Hogsmeade visits?" the professor asked him.

Frisk nodded, even though he didn't know why he was being asked that question. "It's for third years and above, right?"

"It's kind of irregular, but headmaster Dumbledore is making an exception, due to your unique status." Frisk held his breath, waiting for his professor to continue. "For this week's visit only, your adopted guardian will be allowed to take you out of the castle, and you can spend the day with her over at the village."

"You mean it?" Frisk said, not believing his ears.

"I do, Mr Dreemurr. It's been, what, two months since you left the Underground, before school started?"

"Six weeks." Frisk corrected her. "Thank you, thank you! And… thank the headmaster for me?"

Frisk asked.

Professor Mcgonagall smiled. "I will, mr Goh Dreemurr. Only, please don't tell anyone else about this, though. The cry would probably be heard all around the school. With that in mind, you may go."

Frisk practically skipped out of the classroom. This would probably be the longest week yet in his Hogwarts career thus far.

* * *

Greetings my fellow readers! Kept you all waiting, huh? Sorry about that. Wasn't really feeling motivated to finish this chapter till this point. So this is the promise. The story is still ongoing. I'll upload the next part as and when I can. Till then, if you like what you saw, be sure to leave a review, privately or otherwise on what you want to see from this story, how I can improve it, and so on. Blkey398i, out.


	9. Chapter 9: The One He Couldn't Save

**Dreemurr in Need Chapter 9: The One he couldn't Save**

Alert: **Spoilers for the Finale of the Neutral and True Pacifist runs of Undertale.** Unless you wish to get spoiled, please get the _**peck**_ outta here. ( **DARLING!)** Otherwise, are you feeling comfortable? Yes? Good. Then let us begin.

* * *

"It's almost halloween." Professor Lupin said, his gentle smile acknowledging the first-year students as they sat down for class that thursday. "And as good as any reason for a _special_ lesson. What do you think, class?"

There was some nervous tittering and some wide eyed looks around at that announcement. But there was also excited whisperings as well.

"Ah, I can already hear the word "boggart", and that's absolutely right. Mr Filch has a boogart caught in a classroom below us. So I think we should be taking it on." He then adopted a voice that was supposed to be of the spooky tone; " **Better bring your bags, I don't think we'll be coming back.** "

So having said that, he let the class pack up their belongings. Then, with him at the lead, he brought them across the hallway, down the stairs to an abandoned classroom. Frisk's nose had just began to twitch at the musky smell of abandonment when a bang from one of the wardrobes caused him, plus a few of his classmates to jump. It took a while before he registered that wardrobe as the source of the noise, having scanned the classroom and noting the layer of dust that layered the desks.

Having gone through the details about a boggart and the method of dealing with it if they didn't have the luxury of being with a group of people, Lupin now gave a moment of silence and a glance across to ensure that the group had processed what they heard.

"Now, we're all scared of different things," he admonished, "And I know that rumors among you flows like water. But please respect your classmates. Anything that you folks see here in this classroom stays with us. Are we in agreement?"

"Yes, professor." they all chorused.

"Very good. On three. One… Two… Three!" On that mark Lupin placed the needle on the record player he was standing next to. At once, Dick Walters' **_Hot liquorice_** began playing.

Kevin Duncan stepped forward, to be greeted by a trail of black ink, which consolidated into a gigantic demonic ice black bulldog cerberus that looked familiar to Frisk… In the face of a cool head (no puns intended) and the correct charm a while later, that cerberus shrinked to standard puppy size and was eternally chasing after a miniature rocket.

One burst of laughter later, Kevin was called back. The others, emboldened by this first success, all lined up to have their go at the boogart. Wendy Belcart's appearance had the boggart shapeshift into a pool of blood. One riddikulus! Later, and the pool became a pond of clear water with a miniature sailboat and rubber duckies floating on it.

Adam's presence at the front had some golden angel robots, except their faces were grotesque and the halos that were to be there gripped in their right hands, giving the heads the appearance of having horns and were standing in front of a horribly mangled door. The charm made the angels plush size and cutesy, floating and behaving like guardian angels.

Caroline face, of all things, professor Flitwick, tutting and informing her that she had failed all her tests and would have to retake charms at the current level. The "make-it-better" charm didn't change Flitwick at all, rather, it forced him to say instead, that she got the top grades for every one of her test results.

"Not particularly funny," professor Lupin commented. "But it isn't feeding off any fear from you, so where survival's sake is concerned, that's good enough."

Frisk was last to face the boggart. He now stood in front of the wardrobe,wand at the ready. During that time, he racked his brain hard at thought, but even with the music on, he still hadn't managed to figure out how to deal with his. All the others, that he saw had boggarts that threatened, was creepy/scary or outright attacked. The form that emerged from the wardrobe now did neither of those things. First came the the cutesy form of a face found in his recent nightmares. A fur coated, boyish goat face, soaked in a river's worth of tears, his arms outstretched and his eyes straight at the now paralysed Frisk.

As the class watched, a whole crowd of vines sprouted, wrapped around the young goat.

"No! I don't want to change back! ARRGH!". That was all he could utter before those vines dragged him under. At this, the scene around them grew dark. Goat boi's head become less like a goat and more like a flower, golden petals sprouting up. His arms became more like a plant. His legs merging into one, and turned green, more like a stem then a humanish goat's legs. His screams of anguish and agony becoming higher in pitch as the transformation reached endgame.

While the last phase of the transformation happened before the class's eyes, Frisk's hand slacked and his wand dropped to the floor. Frisk was helpless to stop falling to his knees, the floodgates broke and he starting sobbing uncontrollably, unaware of anything else around him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" He managed to cry out, because, **NOBODY CAME**.

Meanwhile, some of the class had been unable to contain some giggles at the sight before their classmate, till the ending sight. While the transformation was going on, goat boi managed to, between screams of agony and other incoherent words say;;

"I've seen what I can still be!...", more cries of agony. "You! WONT! TAKE! THAT! AWAY FROM ME!", followed by a fireball launched into the air.

At this, the last giggles lowered to a barely heard volume. Then came the bursting sound, and a rain of fireballs came flying at the offending vines. But unfortunately, the vines managed to dodge the display by burrowing underground.

" ***EVIL laughter*** _**I Already Have! "**_ As the last sentence was uttered, a vine rose up behind the goat. Despite themselves, some of the classmates screamed for the goat boy to move out of the way. But it was no use. The vine hit him from behind and the goat slipped into unconsciousness.

" _ **YOU BELONG TO US NOW!",**_ declared the mysterious voice, now summoning the remaining vines to do… something to the now flower being.

A while later, to the surprise of everyone paying attention, Flowey got back up. His eyes started opening.. But they weren't Asriel's eyes. They were Omega Flowey's. The haunting laughter of that abomination ringed throughout the classroom.

"NOOOO!" Frisk managed to cry out, before fading into the darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

When Frisk woke up again, he was at the hospital wing. When he looked around, he noted that he was the only occupant of a hospital bed and that the sun was already setting. A cough bought Frisk's attention, straight to a bar of Cadbury's Chocolate and Lupin's hand . "Here, have some of these," said professor Lupin. "I keep these on hand in case the Dementors come around. Having a bar of chocolate on hand proved itself useful more than once."

"Thank you, professor."

The professor sat in silence while Frisk nibbled away at a cube of chocolate. Then, noticing that Frisk was still distraught, told him; "Have them all. Don't worry about it. I still have plenty of stock to go around," Lupin waited again for Frisk to finish up, then proceeded with his train of thought.

"That hit you pretty hard," Professor Lupin told him worriedly. "You actually passed out from all that drama… Do you want to talk about it?"

Frisk had wanted to talk about it, but had been worried that word of what happened would reach goat mum and dad… plus the consequences. Finally, he spoke up.

"Do you… promise not to tell anyone?" Frisk whispered.

"So long as it doesn't endanger your life, or the lives of others, I promise you that your secrets are safe with me." Professor Lupin assured him. "I know what it's like to keep a terrible secret." Was it just him, or did he notice some sadness in Lupin's eyes as he said that? Still, the assurance was good enough for Frisk.

"Did professor McGonagall tell the staff about my story in the Underground?"

Professor Lupin nodded.

"Well, that's not the whole story." admitted Frisk. He then proceeded to launch into a brief summary of the parts' that weren't left out, elaborating when he came to the parts that he left out in his public story; the first actual battle for survival against Asgore, the betrayal by Flowey, followed by the transformation into the abomination that was Omega Flowey. Then came the reset, which preceded the date with Alphys, and the courage it developed within her to reveal her dark secret: The True Lab, with the Determination experiments that gave rise to the Amalgamations, and Flowey himself.

Up until that point, Professor Lupin had nodded as he heard Frisk summarise what had transpired before, not interrupting from the tale beyond that. Then came the questions. They were just as he had anticipated; a request to repeat that statement, and some moments of stunned silence. Frisk also made it a point that he had reseted before, in the "prove his worth fight" against Toriel. He admitted to accidentally killing her, feeling guilty about it and resetting to undo that mistake, and that Flowey knew, and confronted Frisk about it.

Lastly, he wrapped up with the tale of the second confrontation against Asgore, how Toriel came to give him a chewing out; that he was no sage, just a murderer, and a "dreamer" to boot. How representatives from the monster friends came to support him as well. Then the interruption from Flowey, who took all their souls along with the six human souls to become his true form again, plus the surreal fight that followed, against Asriel Dreemurr in his "God of Hyperdeath" and the subsequent mechanical-like form. Frisk also made it a point to mention the dive into the depths of that form to rescue the six friends he really got to know, with Asriel ultimately being saved himself, who then broke the barrier itself as thanks.

"So that's who the boggart turned into…" Professor Lupin mused.

"But, that's still not the end of my tale," Frisk told him, his eyes, still tearing up. He then proceeded to mention how, before he went through the gateway to the surface, he went searching for Asriel while meeting up with the monster pals. How he'd eventually found Asriel at the flower patch he'd fallen onto. Of how Asriel explained that he couldn't go with the rest of the monsters, that he would still have to revert back to being Flowey now that he doesn't have a soul anymore. Then later, how Asriel dragged him back into the mental void & used the last of his power to give Frisk a proper send off for his journey homeward.

"But i wanted to save him. Sure, he did some horrible things as Flowey, but that wasn't the real him. The real him deserved that second chance. He was alive, at that, so i sought to find the right circumstances to bring him back," Frisk explained. "Thus i used my "determination," and went all the way back.

"All the way back?" Professor Lupin could only utter. "To where?"

"Not where." Frisk corrected him. "Rather, to when. I went back to the point when i fell into the underground," the tears started gathering again. "It's ironic, Asriel & i were fighting for control over this pocket of the timeline, and i gave him what he wanted anyway. Thus i began my search. Changing some details on the runs, but keeping the main line on track. Peeking into Alpyhs' notes, trying to make sense of them. All that i had gathered from them added darkness & gloom in me… But i kept going. Eventually, On one of my final set of loops, i found that i could do this:"

Frisk focused and soon called out his red soul heart to the surface. Whether it be echo, or something else, Lupin's own soul came to the surface as well. It was yellow. Not a bright yellow one like the one he'd seen in Asgore's bottle, but rather a less saturated yellow, worn out and tired. As Frisk watched, a Brown, feral looking soul emerged from it's cover and started attacking the yellow.

"That's your soul?" Professor Lupin asked, surprised. He seemed unaware his own soul was exposed for all to see.

Frisk allowed his focus to wane and both souls then faded from view. "it is. I was going to give it up to Asriel so that he could continue on, but he wouldn't have any of that. In fact, he started crying again."

"no, Frisk. You must keep that soul. I'm not sure i can ever live with myself if i get anyone else hurt trying to help me." he said firmly.

"Wait... How did you know how to do this? How many times did you try to get to this?"

"I told him that i had lost count. & that must have horrified him deeply, cause he shouted:"

"Frisk! You have to live your life! The fates didn't allow you to survive all this only for you to throw away your life this way!" He then grabbed my wrists. "Please," he begged. "you heard who i once was before that incident. Wanted to see what reckless spamming of resets, a times worth of guilt, despair and anger looks like? If you continued down this current path? There it was, plaguing you in flower form! It's your "pal," Flowey!" he wiped a tear from his eyes. "So please… if i could have changed my fate, l'd have done it resets ago. Please, let it go, live. My own time as Asriel is over. What time i do have left, I would dedicate to protecting the timelines. Don't worry about anything else regarding that. Please, live. Do it for me… alright?"

"And so, that's what i did. I… I left him down there without a soul." The dam broke completely a second time, allowing the onslaught of tears to flood through. "I'm sorry, Asriel. I'm so sorry!" Frisk wailed, burying his head in his arms once again to sob it all off. Immediately afterwards, Frisk felt professor Lupin's hands patting him. The gesture was small, of course, but Frisk was comforted by it nonetheless.

"Now I can see what you meant when you said you couldn't bear to let news of that reach your new guardians, but I'm sure they'll still be proud of what you've done for them… As would your parents. And don't worry about anything else. Should you need anymore assistance, just feel free to ask any of us professors for help. We'll see what we can do"

*Sniff*, "thanks, professor," Frisk replied, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes. "Still, I don't think it's over yet."

"Hmm? Why not?" Professor Lupin asked him.

"Magic itself seems to think otherwise. It keeps on reminding me just when I was forgetting about it." Frisk replied.

"Well, don't think too hard about it.," Lupin told him. "Do you feel like having dinner? I can accompany you down if you like," Lupin now said with a smile. "In any case, I must mention that though you seem to be fine, according to Mdm Pomfrey's initial check up, you need to remain in the ward for a day for a final look through just to make sure you are indeed well."

"Yes, please, professor." Frisk told him. As they were heading to the stairs, Frisk decided to speak up. "Professor?"

"Yes, Frisk?"

"When I was calling up my soul, I saw yours as well. It was under attack by something. Sir, are you feeling alright?"

For a while, Lupin looked shocked. Then, his eyes turned sad.

"Heh, I said that I knew what it was like keeping secrets. Can you keep mine?"

"So long as it doesn't endanger yourself, or others…" Frisk parroted.

"I must apologise in advance, Frisk. For you may have to follow through that promise to the full," Professor Lupin told him grimmly. He sighed. "I'm a werewolf. With all the terrible curses and prejudices that comes with it. Once the full moon comes out for three nights , I'm a raging beast, out for people to bite and all. Professor Snape's brewing me a potion so that I don't. Even then, because of my condition, I cannot find respectable work. & what normal person would want to work with a werewolf? Luckily, I have professor Dumbledore. He allowed me into Hogwarts, when no other headmaster would have allowed me in. And now, he gave me a job too. I hope that you wouldn't think any worst of me, now that you know..."

"It's alright, Professor Lupin. I think you're one of the best teachers I've ever had." Frisk assured him, know reaching out his arms.

"Thank you, Frisk," Professor Lupin said, returning his embrace. "Now then, shall we continue on?"

The two of them of them thus headed down to the great hall. A number of Frisk's classmates were still there to greet him and keep watch as he took his dinner. Indeed, some of those even went the extra mile and accompanied him back to the hospital wing, chatting with him; just being there in general until it was time for them to return to Gryffindor tower. Thanks to all that, Frisk was able to wander off to the calm parts of sleepland.

* * *

Author's notes: Greetings, one and all. Thanks for your patience in waiting for this chapter to be fully completed. Oh, and if you caught some of the memes and other references I placed in there, yes, they were intentional. Perphaps in a post story chapter for the story, I'll reveal what the references/shoutouts/memes are. As people who saw the original chapter 9 author's notes would have noted, this story won't be the only one getting attention from me, cause of some stress from what I wanted to do with it. So now, I am happy to announce that in the works at the same time is a retelling of the Hat in Time story thus far, but with the Steam Workshop Mods in them and then some! "Cause those mods made **Hatty Time** so much more fun to play for me and thus far I haven't seen much, if any of such stories online before, or maybe I haven't been to the right places. In any case, if anyone's got a recommendation of mods to give me, please message me I would love to try those out. Not to worry, I'll do my best to keep those mods from interfering from the story too much. Thank you and have a great (rest of the) day! Blkey… out.


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